B 


• 


Mercedes 


(See  page  113) 


DANIEL  EYERTON 

VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
a  "Romance  of  tbe  Philippines 

BY 
ISRAEL    PUTNAM 


ILLUSTRATIONS    BT    SEWELL    COLLINS 


FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

1902 


COPYRIGHT,  1902,  BY 
FT7NK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY 


[REGISTERED  AT  STATIONERS'  HALL,  LONDON,  ENGLAND] 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 
Published  April,  1909 


Ho  flJg  Wife 


2137794 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

MM 

MERCEDES .    Frontispiece 

"I  AM  SORRY  TO  HAVE  PUT  YOU  TO  THE  INCONVENI- 
ENCE OF  A  SECOND  CALL,"  HE  SATO  ...  88 

DANIEL  EVERTON  KNEW  WHAT  THE  WRITING  OF  THE 
LETTER  HAD  COST 174 

"WELL?"  SHE  SAID,  QUIETLY;  "WHY  DON'T  YOU 
GO  ON?"  .  370 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I    BENTTA  LLOPIS 


II  AT  THE  CAFE  OF  SENOR  DE  LA  RAMA         .  16 

III  JOSE  MISPALL  PLAYS  MONTE        ...  31 

IV  Two  PATRIOTS  PLAN  A  CAMPAIGN        .       .  52 
V  ONE  CASUALTY        ......  62 

VI  MARSHALL  EVERTON  RECEIVES  A  CALL       .  79 

VII  A  BREACH  OF  TRUST      .....  100 

VIII  MERCEDES        .......  Ill 

IX  SENOR  ISIDRO  GIVES  A  BALL        .       .       .  125 

X  THE  MACTAVISH  BUNGALOW          .       .        .350 

XI  THE  PRICE  OF  A  REPUTATION       .       .        .  171 

XII  MRS.  CARTWRIGHT  MAKES  THE  TEA    .       .  180 

Xin  THE  ARRIVAL  OF  THE  "!SLA  DE  TABLAS"  .  191 

XIV  FORT  MALATE         ......  221 

XV  AN  UNSEEN  BARRIER     .....  238 

XVI  A  SOCIAL  VERDICT  ......  257 

XVII  PERPLEXITY     .......  275 

XVIII  SUNSET     ........  282 

XIX  SERGEANT  CASSIDY  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY    .  299 

XX  BENTTA  TAKES  A.  HAND  .....  317 
vii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER                                                              TITLE  PAGE 

XXI  COLONEL  CARTWRIGHT  TRIES  AN  EXPERIMENT  326 

XXII  NEWS  FROM  NEQROS 350 

XXIII  CONSTANCE 365 

XXIV  ON  THE  SLOPES  OF  CANALOAN      .       .       .  377 
XXV  MARSHALL  EVERTON 393 

XXVI  CONCLUSION 405 

viii 


DANIEL  EFERTON, 
FOL  UNTEER-REG  ULAR 


Chapter  I 
BENITA  LLOPIS 

T  was  past  four  o'clock  of  a  sultry  day  toward 
the  close  of  the  dry  season.  The  cooling 
breath  of  the  southwest  monsoon,  sweeping 
from  Borneo  and  the  islands  of  the  Sulu  Sea,  had, 
during  the  earlier  hours  of  the  day,  struggled  in 
vain  to  make  headway  against  the  heat  of  the  tropical 
sun.  But  now,  as  the  day  declined,  there  was  a 
marked  change  in  the  atmosphere.  The  blistering 
rays  of  noon-day  removed  from  the  moist  earth,  it 
began  to  cool  and  the  air  took  on  a  delicious  fresh- 
ness. 

The  afternoon  drill  was  over,  and  several  soldiers 
had  thrown  themselves  upon  the  earth  in  the  shade 

of  a  grove  of  cocoa-palm  trees.     From  their  position 

1 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

they  could  watch  the  tiny  breakers  creep  closer  with 
the  rising  of  the  tide,  and  see  the  sparkling  waters  of 
the  Straits  stretching  away  to  the  nigged,  moun- 
tainous coast  of  Panay. 

The  home  mail  had  come  in  that  morning,  and 
most  of  the  men  were  reading  their  long-delayed  and 
long-watched-for  letters.  One  of  them,  however, 
was  diligently  perusing  the  columns  of  a  newspaper 
two  months  old.  He  had  no  letters.  After  twelve 
years  in  the  ranks  of  the  army,  a  man's  correspond- 
ence is  apt  to  drop  off.  As  he  read,  his  heavy,  Irish 
jaw  worked  steadily,  and  from  time  to  time  he  would 
glance  aside,  select  some  unoffending  twig  or  palm 
leaf  as  a  target,  shower  it  with  tobacco  juice,  and 
return  to  his  paper. 

"  Ar'  you  aware,  Redder,"  he  asked  at  length, 
breaking  a  silence  which  had  lasted  several  minutes, 
"  that  there's  to  be  no  more  canteen  in  th'  army  ? " 

The  one  addressed  withdrew  from  his  mouth,  con- 
cealed behind  a  heavy  blond  beard,  the  pipe  he  was 
smoking,  and  looked  at  the  speaker  with  a  pair  of 
large  blue  eyes.  His  was  a  mind  not  over  quick  at 
grasping  new  facts,  and  for  a  moment  he  hesitated. 

"  Who  said  dot  ?  "  he  inquired  at  length. 

"I  did.  It's  here  in  th'  paper.  "No  more  can- 
teen. They  considers  it  a  kayrupter  av  our  morals." 


BENITA   LLOPIS 


"  You  haven't  got  any  morals,"  said  Redder,  some- 
what irrelevantly,  it  must  be  admitted.  "  Where's 
d'  beer  comin'  from  if  dey  don'd  hef  no  gandeen  ?  " 

"  Nowheres,  av  coorse.  That's  the  p'int.  Your 
to  be  absint  without  lave  an'  dhrink  whisky  if  you 
must  dhrink.  But  if,  after  servin'  twilve  years  in 
th'  army,  you  can  abstain  taytotally,  you'll  be  per- 
mitted to  go  into  a  tint  to  be  erected  on  th'  Post 
primises,  and  play  tiddle-de-winks  an'  drink  ginger- 
beer.  That's  how  th'  Young  Min's  Christian  Associa- 
tion '11  learn  you  to  fear  Gawd  an'  lick  th'  enemy. 
It  tells  all  about  it  in  th'  paper  here." 

"Whosedso?" 

"  I  say  so,  you  wooden-head,  an'  so  does  th'  news- 
paper !  " 

"  De  baber  don'd  boss  de  army,  an'  neider  do  you 
— excebd  de  awkvard  squad.  Who  makes  dis  fool- 
ishness ? " 

"  Th'  Gawd-fearin'  taytotallers  in  Congress,  av 
coorse." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  sooch  a  law  iss  made  py 
men?" 

"I  do — spurred  on  an*  applauded  be  th'  W.  C. 
T.  U.  Woman's  Childish  Timperance  Uselessness, 
I  think  it  stands  for." 

Sergeant  Redder  replaced  in  his  mouth  the  meer- 
3 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

schaum  pipe — to  which  he  still  adhered  despite  the 
cheapness  of  the  Manila  perfectos  with  which  his 
companions  were  regaling  themselves — and  smoked 
silently.  He  looked  out  over  the  waters  of  the 
Straits  of  Guimaras  at  a  parao  which  was  gliding 
swiftly  by,  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  striking  its 
white  sails  and  turning  them  a  claret  red.  Upon  its 
starboard  outrigger  stood  a  picturesque  native  who 
had  gone  out  there  to  ballast  the  queer  craft  as  it  flew 
rapidly  along  in  the  direction  of  Iloilo. 

"  Ah  wish  ah  war  on  thata  thing,  goin'  back  to  the 
States,"  said  a  long  and  lanky  private,  who  hailed 
from  the  mountains  of  Tennessee. 

"  Do  you  indade  ?  "  said  Cassidy,  laying  his  news- 
paper aside  and  biting  a  large  piece  from  his  plug  of 
tobacco.  "  An'  it's  mighty  saysick  you'd  be  before 
you  got  there.  What's  more,  when  you  do  get  home, 
it'll  be  the  foine  warm  wither  an'  th'  tuba  av'  th' 
Phillipeens  you'll  be  thinkin'  av." 

"  If  dey  busd  up  de  gandeen,"  continued  Redder, 
who  had  been  thinking  of  the  matter  in  his  own 
thoroughly  slow  and  slowly  thorough  way,  "  ve'll 
haf  to  drink  someding,  an'  most  off  de  men  '11 
drink  diss  bino  stuff  de  vimmin  sells,  vot  seds  you 
grazy." 

"  Anny  wan  wud  think,  Sergeant  Redder,"  said 
4 


BEN  IT  A  LLOPIS 


his  friend,  "  that  you  knew  more  about  th'  army 
than  what  th'  W.  C.  T.  U.  does.  They've  studied 
th'  subject  most  thoroughly  an'  have  writ  innumera- 
ble pamflits  on  it.  You  couldn't  write  a  pamflit  on 
anything,  so  you'd  better  shut  up." 

"  Vel,"  said  Eedder,  "  if  dey  busd  up  de  gandeen 
dey'll  haf  trubble,  dat's  all." 

"  An'  what  do  they  care,  if  they  do  have  more 
min  before  a  Gineral  Court-martial?  You  see  th' 
way  they  look  upon  th'  matter's  like  this :  They  think 
thot  anny  man  who'd  defile  hisself  wid  drinkin'  beer 
in  what  they  calls  th'  canteen  saloon  is  av  no  use  in 
th'  army.  So  they  sez,  (  Let  him  go  to  hell  his  own 
way,'  an'  chuck  'im  out.  What  they  want  in  th' 
army  is  taytotallers.  It  ain't  your  gettin'  drunk 
alone  that  they  kick  about;  it's  your  drinkin'.  If 
you  so  much  as  tooch  a  glass  av  beer,  you're  a  miser- 
able onclean  heathen,  an'  th'  sooner  you  finish  up  th' 
job  an'  drink  yourself  t'  death  th'  better." 

"  Ah  doan'  see,"  said  the  Tennesseean  plaintively, 
"  what  right  the  Congress  have  got  to  stop  the  can- 
teen thata  way." 

"  Yer  lamintably  ignarant  av  th'  laws,  thin,"  re- 
torted Cassidy,  expectorating  scornfully.  "  Congriss 
cud  wipe  out  th'  hull  army  with  a  sthroke  av  its 
pen — if  it  wanted  to." 

5 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Ah  wish  they  would,  then.  Ah  wouldn't  kick, 
fer  one." 

"  De  gandeen's  de  vun  ding  vot  made  life  vordth 
liffin'  out  en  dem  Vestern  posts,"  said  Kedder,  refill- 
ing his  pipe. 

"  Ah !  "  snorted  Cassidy,  "  they  make  me  tired. 
They're  worse  than  Christian  Scientists." 

"  What  ah  Christian  Scientists  ? "  asked  the  man 
from  Tennessee. 

"  They're  more  ole  wimmin  an'  some  men  that  be- 
lieve that  when  you've  a  bullet  through  your  bowels, 
th'  only  thing  the  matter  wid  you  is  meelankolia." 

"  Do  you  mean  dot  dey  vos  grazy  ?  "  inquired  Red- 
der. 

"  Oi  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  I  think  they  must  be. 
I  do  wish,  Redder,  that  you'd  read  th'  newspapers. 
Your  ignorance  is  onexcusable." 

"  I  don'd  vont  to  read  aboud  sooch  damn  nonzenze. 
I'd  rader  read  de  drill  pook." 

"  Oi  don't  know  as  I  blame  you,  but  there's  more 
in  th'  papers  than  Christian  Science.  I  believe  in 
sipparatin'  th'  wheat  from  the  chaff." 

As  Cassidy  finished  speaking  he  folded  up  the 
paper  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  "  What  do  you  think 
of  the  news,  Everton  ?  "  he  asked,  addressing  one  of 

the  men  who  was  gazing  idly  off  to  sea,  his  campaign 

6 


BEN IT 'A   LLOPIS 


hat  drawn  down  well  over  his  bronzed  forehead  to 
shade  the  clear  gray  eyes.  Everton  did  not  hear  the 
question  apparently,  for  he  made  no  reply.  A  si- 
lence fell  upon  the  little  group,  which  was  broken 
after  a  time  by  the  faint  notes  of  a  distant  bugle 
call 

"  There  goes  first  call,"  said  Cassidy,  resignedly. 

"  Ah  wish  it  war  Gabriel's  horn,"  replied  the  man 
from  the  mountains  of  Tennessee. 

"  That'll  come  soon  enough,  never  fear,"  said  Cas- 
sidy, soothingly.  "  You'd  better  come  on  now  an' 
be  drilled  by  thot  new  lootenant  what  came  in  with 
th'  mail  this  mornin'.  If  he  knows  '  fours  right ' 
from  '  about  face '  I  lose  my  bet.  So  long,  Ever- 
ton." 

"  So  long,  old  man,"  replied  the  tall  soldier,  com- 
ing out  of  his  reverie  as  his  companions  moved  away 
toward  the  clearing.  "  See  you  at  supper." 

As  the  men  passed  from  sight  behind  a  nipa  shack, 
the  one  who  had  been  addressed  as  Everton  arose 
and  stretched  himself  luxuriously.  Having  relieved 
in  a  measure  by  this  process  the  cramped  stiffness  in 
his  lower  limbs,  he  turned  toward  the  sea  and  walked 
out  upon  the  broad,  white  beach. 

He  was  the  only  one  of  the  men  who  had  worn  a 
coat  despite  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  the  brass  but- 

7 


D4NIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

tons  thereof  had  been  polished  until  they  shone.  It 
was  apparent  that  the  blouse  itself  had  undergone 
some  alterations  since  leaving  the  Quartermaster's 
Department,  the  native  tailor  who  lived  in  a  one- 
room  shack  behind  the  old  convent,  used  now  as  a 
military  barracks,  having  altered  it  to  fit  the  well- 
made  frame  of  the  owner.  His  leggins  were  new, 
and  he  had  a  neat,  well-groomed  appearance  which 
was  in  contrast  to  most  of  his  company.  Cassidy 
and  the  others,  when  off  duty,  were  prone  to  adopt 
what  the  Irishman  called  "  the  real  field  uniform  of 
the  United  States — a  blue  shirt,  canvas  pants,  and 
shoes,  if  ye  have  them." 

It  only  was  in  this  scrupulous  exactness  about  his 
dress  that  Daniel  Everton  had  shown  to  his  comrades 
during  the  two  years  he  had  spent  among  them, 
that  he  had  come  into  the  ranks  from  a  different 
world  than  theirs.  He  was  a  good  soldier,  and  this 
had  been  his  passport  to  their  confidence  and  esteem. 
For  the  rest,  it  mattered  little  whether  or  not  he  was 
what  the  world  ambiguously  calls  a  gentleman — he 
was  Private  Everton  to  them,  until  by  dint  of  merit 
alone  he  became  Sergeant  Everton.  The  military 
world  is  an  ideal  social  world  in  certain  respects.  In 
it  a  general  is  no  more  and  no  less  than  a  general, 
a  corporal  no  more  and  no  less  than  a  corporal.  The 

8 


BENITA   LLOPIS 


position  of  each  is  fixed  by  his  commission  or  war- 
rant, as  the  case  may  be,  and  that  settles  the  matter. 

Everton  turned  southward  and  walked  along  the 
beach.  The  sun  had  set,  and  above  the  violet, 
dreamy  outline  of  the  Panay  shore  hung  great  banks 
of  mackerel  clouds,  their  lower  edges  a  splendid 
crimson;  their  crests  a  soft  opal  fading  away  into  a 
sky  of  Prussian  blue,  across  which  the  summer  light- 
ning played  constantly. 

Northern  sunsets  suggest  tenderness;  those  of  the 
tropics — passion.  During  the  two  long  and  weary 
years  which  he  had  spent  amidst  uncongenial  sur- 
roundings his  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  in  nature 
had  been  a  great  compensation  to  this  young  soldier, 
making  up  to  him  in  no  small  degree  for  the  lack  of 
those  other  resources  which  he  had  had  before  his 
enlistment. 

He  sat  upon  an  overturned  parao,  looking  out 
across  the  waters,  which  had  changed  their  blue  for 
the  gorgeous  coloring  of  the  sky,  and  puffing  lazily 
at  the  cigar  which  he  had  lighted.  The  whole  world 
seemed  to  have  been  touched  and  glorified  by  the 
brush  of  the  Great  Artist.  Even  the  bamboo  huts 
of  the  fishermen,  dirty  and  commonplace  as  they 
were  by  the  full  light  of  day,  had  absorbed  in  a 

measure    the    soft   coloring    of   the    sea    and    sky, 

9 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

which  fell  like  a  mist  upon  the  low  shore,  bringing 
out  the  clusters  of  orange-colored  cocoanuts  against 
the  green  background  of  the  waving  palms. 

As  he  sat  there  he  heard  the  shrill  scream  of  a 
woman,  and  turning,  beheld  a  grotesquely  pathetic 
little  tableau. 

A  few  yards  from  where  he  sat  a  small  river  flowed 
into  the  sea.  Upon  its  banks  were  tall  clumps  of 
bamboo  brake,  in  which  the  wild  pigeon,  settling  for 
the  night,  cooed  softly.  Banana  and  dwarf  palm 
trees  crowded  each  other  about  their  bases  in  luxu- 
riant profusion,  and  in  the  rear  the  forest  of  cocoa 
trees  stretched  away  inland  toward  the  town.  The 
light  was  fading  rapidly,  and  the  little  group  of 
women  who  had  been  washing  their  clothes  beside 
the  stream,  and  had  gathered  them  up  into  wet 
heaps,  were  transferring  them  to  their  owners7 
baskets. 

There  was  one  man  in  the  party;  a  short,  black 
native  with  a  round  head  and  massive  shoulders.  A 
dispute  had  apparently  arisen  between  him  and  one 
of  the  women  as  to  the  ownership  of  a  dilapidated 
old  shirt.  Each  had  a  firm  grip  upon  it,  and  in  the 
tug-of-war  which  ensued  it  seemed  as  though  a  divi- 
sion of  the  garment  was  inevitable.  The  woman 
was  old,  toothless,  and  very  ugly,  and  as  she  strug- 

10 


BEN  IT  A  LLOPIS 


gled  to  wrest  the  shirt  from  the  man's  grasp  she 
abused  him  shrilly. 

Everton  watched  the  little  tableau  with  amuse- 
ment, until  the  man,  incensed  by  the  taunts  of  the 
other  women,  gave  way  to  his  passion,  and  raising  a 
clenched  fist  struck  his  adversary  across  the  mouth. 
At  this  the  others,  who  had  shown  no  disposition  to 
take  sides  before,  being  content  to  urge  both  on  with 
good-humored  derision,  were  savagely  indignant. 
They  crowded  around  the  man  and  heaped  upon  his 
head  a  veritable  torrent  of  abuse.  What  would  be 
but  a  gentle  shower  of  abuse  in  any  civilized  lan- 
guage, became  a  torrent  when  poured  forth  in  the 
harsh,  uncouth  dialect  of  the  Bisayas.  A  dozen  thin, 
brown  arms  were  stretched  forth  to  interfere,  when 
Everton,  stepping  quickly  into  the  center  of  the 
group  and  grasping  the  native  by  the  back  of  the 
neck  with  one  hand,  wrenched  the  shirt  from  his 
grasp  with  the  other. 

"  You  brute  ! "  said  the  American,  as  he  shook  him. 

The  native  wriggled  from  his  grasp  with  the  agil- 
ity of  a  reptile,  and  drawing  from  beneath  his  flow- 
ing white  shirt  a  short  knife,  made  a  lunge  at  the 
soldier's  chest.  Everton  easily  caught  the  uplifted 
arm,  and  gave  it  a  twist  which  caused  his  opponent 
to  drop  the  knife  with  a  sharp  cry  of  pain. 

11 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

A  cackle  of  laughter  ran  around  the  circle  of  old 
crones  at  this,  and  when  he  had  shaken  off  the  sol- 
dier's arm  the  native  turned  and  ran  swiftly  across 
the  shallow  river,  jumping  from  stone  to  stone. 
Everton  made  no  effort  to  follow  him,  but  stood 
watching  the  lithe  figure  as  it  gained  the  opposite 
bank  and  disappeared  among  the  trees. 

"  Runs  better  than  he  fights,"  was  the  soldier's 
mental  comment  as  he  stooped  and  picked  up  his  late 
adversary's  knife.  It  was  a  very  pretty  specimen, 
with  a  handle  made  from  the  horn  of  a  cariboo  and 
quaintly  carved.  He  slipped  it  into  his  belt,  and 
turned  to  find  that  the  women  were  hoisting  their 
baskets  upon  their  heads  and  moving  off  toward 
the  village.  A  few  of  the  younger  ones  ventured 
a  bright  glance  of  admiration  at  the  victor  in  the 
recent  struggle  as  they  raised  their  gayly-colored 
skirts  and  waded  across  the  shallow  river,  picking 
their  way  gingerly  along  its  pebbly  bottom,  and  so 
affording  him  a  glimpse  of  their  pretty  ankles.  At 
last  all  were  gone  except  the  old  woman  who  had 
figured  as  the  heroine  in  the  little  affair,  and  who 
lingered  as  though  wanting  to  speak  to  her  protector. 
He  drew  a  peseta  from  his  pocket  and  tossed  it  to  her, 
saying  in  Spanish :  "  Cheer  up,  you  are  all  right 

now." 

13 


BEN  IT  A  LLOPIS 


To  his  surprise,  she  did  not  clutch  at  the  coin  as 
he  had  expected  her  to  do,  but  let  it  lie  on  the  sand 
where  it  fell,  and  throwing  herself  at  his  feet  clasped 
his  knees  with  her  bony  arms.  She  caught  one  of 
his  brown  hands,  and  drawing  it  to  her  emaciated 
breast  kissed  it,  wetting  it  with  her  tears. 

Everton  was  one  of  those  men  who  dislike  being 
thanked  for  a  kind  act  as  much  as  they  like  to  render 
one.  A  dark  flush  crept  up  behind  his  bronzed  skin, 
and  he  drew  back  hastily. 

"  Don't  do  that,"  he  said.  Then,  stooping,  he 
helped  her  to  her  feet.  For  a  moment  they  stood 
facing  each  other,  while  the  brilliant,  vivid  tints  in 
the  west  faded  to  a  dull  red.  A  strange  destiny  had 
brought  these  two  together,  and,  could  he  have  known 
the  importance  this  meeting  was  destined  to  assume 
in  his  life,  he  would  have  shrunk  from  her  appalled. 
As  it  was,  he  saw  only  what  appeared  to  him  to  be 
the  ugliest  human  being  he  had  ever  beheld. 

She  was  indeed  ugly.  There  is  nothing  more  so 
than  an  old  woman  of  one  of  the  Southern  races, 
which  age  young.  ^  As  she  stood  there,  the  tears 
streaming  down  her  leathery  brown  cheeks,  she  made 
a  pitiable  example  of  what  the  weaker  sex  can  come 
to  be  in  old  age,  when  years  of  manual  labor  have 
been  added  to  the  other  and  harder  burdens  which 

13 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

fall  to  a  woman's  lot.  Her  thin  lips  were  drawn 
back  over  nearly  toothless  gums,  and  showed  two 
long,  yellow  teeth,  which  divided  and  gave  her  a  half- 
savage,  animal  appearance.  The  head  was  crowned 
with  a  mop  of  thin,  grayish-black  hair,  and  her 
cheeks  were  sunken,  as  though  she  had  been  dead 
some  days. 

"  My  name,"  she  said  at  last,  speaking  Spanish 
fluently,  from  which  he  rightly  inferred  that  she  was 
a  servant  in  one  of  the  wealthy  native  families,  "  is 
Benita  Llopis,  and  as  long  as  I  live  I  shall  pray  for 
you  and  be  grateful  to  you." 

"  Thanks,"  replied  Everton  hastily,  for  he  saw 
that  she  was  on  the  verge  of  more  tears  and  dem- 
onstrations of  gratitude.  "  Did  the  man  hurt 
you?" 

"  No." 

"  If  he  tries  to  strike  you  again  come  and  tell  me, 
I  am  the  American  quartermaster-sergeant  here." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  Senor." 

As  she  spoke,  the  first  call  for  retreat  sounded, 
and  the  sergeant  turned  to  go.  Stooping,  he  picked 
up  the  peseta  and  handed  it  to  her.  She  took  it  and 
put  it  carefully  away  in  the  folds  of  her  peona  waist.. 

"  Adios,"  said  Everton,  as  he  turned  on  his  heel 
and  walked  briskly  up  the  beach.  When  he  came 

14 


BEN  IT  A  LLOPIS 


to  the  road  which  leads  up  toward  the  plaza  he 
stopped  and  looked  back. 

The  sky  in  the  west  was  growing  dark,  and  the 
mountains  on  the  Panay  side  were  barely  discernible. 
Above  the  island  of  Guimaras  a  few  fleecy  clouds 
floated  in  the  evening  air.  They  were  still  glowing 
with  the  rosy  colors  which  had  faded  into  dusk  in  the 
lower  atmosphere.  Owing  to  its  altitude,  the  vol- 
cano of  Canaloan  caught  the  last  rays  of  the  sun,  now 
far  below  the  horizon,  and  for  a  moment  reared  a 
violet-crested  peak  above  the  evening  shadows  which 
had  fallen  upon  the  lowlands  and  the  sea.  The 
sound  of  the  tide,  just  beginning  to  ebb,  was  borne 
to  Everton's  ears,  and  as  he  peered  into  the  gloom 
which  had  enshrouded  the  river  bank  he  could  just 
distinguish  the  bent  form  of  old  Benita  crouching 
by  her  basket  on  the  dark  sands. 

15 


Chapter  n 

AT  THE  CAFE  OF  SENOR  DE  LA  RAMA 

HE  island  of  Negros  is  so  close  to  Panay  that 
at  night,  when  there  is  no  moon  and  the 
southwest  monsoon  blows  freshly,  parties  of 
insurgents  can  steal  out  in  their  swift  paraos  from 
the  rivers  and  inlets  along  the  Panay  shore  and  cross 
to  one  of  the  coast  towns  of  Negros  in  less  than  two 
hours. 

Few  sail  are  to  be  seen  on  the  usually  quiet  waters 
of  the  Straits.  Sugar  lorchas — large,  ungainly 
schooners,  which  carry  the  brown  wealth  of  Negros 
in  its  crude  form  to  the  warehouses  and  godowns  of 
Iloilo — have  almost  a  monopoly  in  the  marine  land- 
scape. At  intervals  of  days,  the  smoke  or  low  black 
hull  of  a  tramp  steamer  may  be  seen,  hugging  the 
Panay  shore  on  her  way  to  or  from  the  outer  world. 
The  eastern  coast  of  ISTegros  presents  to  the  lover 
of  nature  a  shore  line  of  exceptional  beauty.  From 
Victorias  and  Seravia  on  the  north  to  Sumag  on  the 

south,  the  coast  is  fringed  with  a  deep  forest  of  cocoa 

16 


AT  THE  CAFE  OF  SENOR  DE  LA  RAMA 

palms.  Behind  this  belt  the  ground  slopes  gradually 
to  the  mountains,  some  twenty-five  miles  inland.  Be- 
tween these  mountains  and  the  sea  are  fields  on  fields 
of  fertile  sugar  lands,  broken  by  groves  of  palm, 
bamboo,  and  banana  trees.  Watered  most  plenti- 
fully by  several  large  rivers,  which  wind  their  tor- 
tuous courses  from  the  upland  gorges  at  the  base  of 
Canaloan  through  rich  hacienda  lands  and  forests 
of  rare  woods  to  the  Straits,  this  narrow  belt  of 
coast  country  holds  as  rich  sugar  lands  as  any  in 
the  world. 

On  a  promontory  on  the  eastern  coast  of  Negros, 
near  the  narrowest  part  of  the  Straits,  is  situated, 
about  two  miles  inland,  the  pueblo  of  Silay.  Like 
most  of  the  towns  of  the  Philippines,  it  has  little  to 
boast  in  the  way  of  architectural  beauty.  A  score 
of  houses  of  the  more  pretentious,  two-story  type,  a 
few  others  built  of  nipa,  with  tall  thatched  roofs  and 
sides  of  interlaced  bamboo;  a  few  streets  which  de- 
teriorate into  rough  trails  a  hundred  yards  or  so  be- 
yond the  limits  of  the  town,  and  one  broad  highway 
running  north  and  south,  connecting  Silay  with  the 
other  coast  pueblos — these  sum  up  the  municipal 
pretensions  of  the  populous  little  village. 

Upon  its  main  street,  fronting  the  Plaza,  one 
Pedro  de  la  Kama  has  in  times  past  set  up  a  business 
2  17 


D4NIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

in  wines,  groceries,  and  tobacco.  The  front  of  his 
little  shop  contains  three  or  four  chairs,  very  much 
the  worse  for  wear,  and  a  table  just  strong  enough 
to  support  a  half-dozen  bottles  of  beer.  This  de- 
partment of  the  establishment  had  been  christened 
by  one  of  the  American  soldiers  the  "  de  la  Rama 
Cafe,"  and  it  was  here  that  the  officers  of  the  Silay 
detachment  were  wont  to  congregate  when  not  ac- 
tively engaged  in  their  official  duties  or  in  calling 
upon  the  pretty  little  senoritas  of  Silay. 

On  an  afternoon  in  the  month  of  April,  1899, 
three  men  occupied  the  cafe.  Two  were  American 
officers,  and  the  third  was  Senor  Jose  Mispall,  the 
owner  of  a  hacienda  up  country,  and  the  wearer,  on 
the  occasion  when  we  make  his  acquaintance,  of  a 
large  yellow-diamond  ring.  One  of  the  officers  was 
addressed  by  his  companion  as  Lieutenant  Taylor, 
the  other  was  a  Captain  of  Volunteers  by  name  of 
Blanchard.  The  latter  was  a  newcomer  to  the 
Philippines,  and  his  failure  to  participate  in  the  con- 
versation of  the  others  was  due  to  his  ignorance  of 
what  Taylor  called  "King  Alfonso's  pure  Castil- 
ian."  The  latter,  who  was  temporarily  in  com- 
mand of  the  detachment  at  Silay,  paused  with  a 
glass  half-way  to  his  lips,  and  said,  addressing 

Mispall : 

18 


AT  THE  CAFE  OF  SENOR  DE  LA  RAMA 

"  Seiior  Jose,  I  hear  that  there  is  to  be  a  game  of 
monte  at  the  house  of  our  friend  Isidro  Paris  this 
evening." 

"  Si,  Senor,"  replied  Mispall,  his  small,  black  eyes 
brightening.  "  Shall  you  go  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  two  chinning  about  ?  "  interrupted 
the  Volunteer  captain,  who  had  come  to  Silay  that 
morning  on  his  way  north  to  one  of  the  smaller  coast 
towns. 

"  We  are  talking  about  a  monte  game  at  the  house 
of  Isidro  Paris  to-night.  Want  to  go  ?  " 

"  Well,  rather.  You  can  count  me  in  if  there  is 
to  be  any  fun,"  rejoined  Blanchard,  twirling  his 
blond  mustache  and  casting  a  side  glance  at  two 
pretty  mestizas,  who  were  passing  down  the  street 
outside.  "  Do  these  people  gamble  much  ?  " 

"  Wait  and  see,"  Taylor  answered  with  a  laugh. 
"  When  I  first  came  here  I  went  to  one  of  their 
games  one  evening  expecting  to  break  the  bank.  I 
was  flush  at  the  time,  as  I  had  been  up  in  the  woods 
for  two  months,  and  had  three  months'  pay  in  my 
pocket.  Well,  when  I  got  there,  I  found  that  these 
'  dagos,'  as  I  then  regarded  them,  were  playing  six 
or  seven  thousand  dollars  on  a  card.  So  I  didn't 
play." 

Blanchard  was  interested.     In  the  little  town  in 
19 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Illinois  from  which  he  came  he  had  conducted  a 
boot  and  shoe  business  on  a  small  scale.  It  hap- 
pened that  his  pay  as  a  Captain  of  Volunteers  was 
the  largest  income  he  had  ever  received.  As  a  rule, 
however,  he  didn't  state  this  fact,  but  talked  of  the 
sacrifice  he  had  made  in  a  pecuniary  way  in  taking 
his  commission. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  niggers  like  our 
friend  here  can  afford  to  play  like  that? " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Taylor.  "  I  don't  know  many 
people  who  can  afford  to  play  as  high  as  that.  But 
they  do  play  high,  whether  they  can  afford  it  or  not. 
And  don't  be  offended,  Blanchard,  if  I  give  you  a 
piece  of  advice,"  he  added,  as  Senor  Mispall,  who 
had  just  left  them  with  an  effusive  bow,  disappeared 
around  the  corner. 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  Blanchard.  "  What  is 
it?" 

"  Don't  call  these  people  {  niggers  '  to  their  faces. 
They  are  fast  learning  English,  and  they  might 
understand  you.  If  you  are  going  to  be  stationed 
in  Escalante  you  will  be  entirely  dependent  on 
them  for  society,  and  if  you  make  a  break  like 
that  at  the  outset  they  won't  have  much  use  for 

you." 

"  And  a  lot  I  shall  care  about  that,"  exclaimed 
20 


AT  THE  CAFE  OF  SENOR  DE  LA  RAMA 

Blanchard,  with  a  noisy  laugh.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  that  it  is  any  pleasure  to  associate  with  these 
people  in  a  social  way  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Taylor.  "  And  when  you've 
lived,  as  I  have,  for  six  months  at  a  stretch  where  you 
haven't  a  white  man  to  talk  to,  you  will  be  just  as 
glad  to  associate  with  the  natives  as  I  have  been. 
You  may  think  you  have  resources  within  yourself 
which  will  be  all  you  need,  but  I  doubt  it.  And,  be- 
sides, after  you  learn  Spanish,  you  will  find  these 
people  very  pleasant  companions.  You  may  feel 
now  that  you  would  rather  be  alone  than  associate 
with  a  man  who  wears  his  shirt  outside  his  trousers, 
or  a  girl  who  spits  out  of  a  window  when  she  is  talk- 
ing to  her  friends  in  the  street  below.  But  when 
you've  lived  a  month  or  so  in  Escalante,  and  asso- 
ciated with  yourself  till  you're  afraid  to  look  in  the 
glass,  you  won't  be  so  damned  exclusive,  and  you 
will  go  out  because  you're  too  blue  to  stay  in.  Have 
another  bottle  ? " 

"  No,  thanks ;  I  feel  as  though  I  were  all  liver  now. 
What  kind  of  a  place  is  that  you  said  I  am  ordered 
to?" 

"  Escalante  ?  "  inquired  Taylor,  with  a  grim  smile. 
"  It's  difficult  to  describe  it.  You  don't  know  what 
a  pleasure  you  have  in  store.  When  you  have  been 

21 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

there  two  months,  and  you  see  a  white  man  coming 
down  the  road,  you  will  run  up  a  tree  and  chatter — 
throw  cocoanuts  at  him,  most  likely." 

The  spirits  of  the  somewhat  impressionable  cap- 
tain began  to  be  affected  by  the  banter  of  his  com- 
panion. He  had  not  been  long  enough  in  the  service 
to  acquire  a  soldierly  habit  of  learning  to  make  the 
best  of  monotonous  situations,  as  soldiers  are  bound 
to  do.  Monotony  is  a  far  more  dangerous  enemy 
for  the  military  man  than  hardship.  Not  infre- 
quently the  hardest  battles  of  his  life  are  fought  out 
in  dreary  garrison  existence.  It  is  the  victory  gained 
over  self  in  these  conflicts,  the  habit  of  persistent 
obedience  and  patience  here  acquired,  which  comes 
to  the  front  in  the  critical  hour  of  battle  and  makes 
an  old  soldier  reliable  where  a  recruit  is  not.  Blan- 
chard  knew  very  little  about  soldiering,  in  fact,  as 
most  of  his  campaigning  had  been  done  in  the  armory 
of  his  native  town.  His  commission  he  owed  to  his 
brother-in-law,  who  edited  the  organ  of  the  "  Ad- 
ministration," as  the  "  Glenville  Daily  Herald  "  pre- 
tentiously styled  itself  on  its  editorial  page,  and  who 
occupied  a  seat  in  Congress. 

He  sat  in  self-absorbed  silence,  regarding  the  rows 
of  tinned  sausages  and  other  edibles  on  the  walls  of 
the  little  shop,  and  wondering  vaguely  if  the  dust 

22 


AT  THE  CAFE  OF  SENOR  DE  LA  RAMA 

on  them  could  have  gathered  to  such  a  depth  in  less 
than  five  years. 

"  Taylor,"  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  "  do  you  ex- 
pect to  spend  the  rest  of  your  life  out  here  ?  " 

Taylor  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders  by  way  of 
answer,  and  continued  to  draw  luxuriously  at  his 
cigar. 

"  Because,  if  you  do,  I  pity  you,  that's  all.  Why 
don't  you  get  married  and  settle  down  ?  " 

"  Well,"  drawled  the  regular  officer  slowly,  "  I'll 
tell  you  one  reason  why  I  don't  marry.  My  pay  is 
just  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  a  month.  By 
being  fairly  economical,  and  keeping  away  from 
poker,  I  find  I  can  get  along  very  well  on  a  hundred. 
When  I  meet  a  girl  who  can  make  me  happy  and  run 
the  house  on  the  other  twenty-five  I  will  consider  the 
matter.  Hello,  Fairchild !  "  he  added,  as  a  figure 
appeared  in  the  doorway.  "  Is  dinner  ready  ?  " 

The  newcomer  was  Dr.  Richard  Fairchild,  a  man 
of  many  experiences  and  a  contract-surgeon  in  the 
army.  He  surveyed  critically  the  array  of  empty 
bottles  beside  the  two  men  before  replying. 

"  No  dinner  at  the  house  to-night,"  he  said. 
"  Have  you  fellows  drank  up  all  de  la  Eama's 
beer?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  exclaimed  Taylor  and 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Blanchard  in  one  breath.  Fairchild  was  acting  as 
caterer  of  the  mess,  and,  in  that  capacity,  was  the 
recipient  of  more  abuse  than  any  other  two  men  in 
the  army. 

"  I  mean,  gentlemen,"  replied  the  swarthy  doctor, 
as  he  seated  himself  on  an  overturned  soap  box  and 
proceeded  to  pour  the  contents  of  a  bottle  of  Schlitz 
Milwaukee  into  a  cracked  tumbler,  "  that  we  have 
been  invited  to  dine  with  Senor  Isidro  Paris  at  his 
hacienda  and  remain  afterward  to  a  game  of  monte. 
I  have  accepted  for  you  both." 

"  The  devil  you  have !  "  said  Taylor.  "  I  wonder 
who  you  think  is  in  command  of  this  Post.  You 
haven't  asked  my  permission  yet." 

"  I  have  not,"  replied  Fairchild  calmly.  "  You 
forget,  Senor  Teniente,  that  I  am  the  post  surgeon. 
I  will  put  you  both  on  sick  report  until  to-morrow. 
If  this  beer  doesn't  save  me  the  trouble,"  he  added, 
opening  his  second  bottle. 

"  We  can't  all  go,  very  well,"  said  Taylor.  "Might 
have  a  revolution  or  something  before  we  got  back." 

"  You  can  turn  over  the  reins  of  authority  to  that 
second  lieutenant  who  arrived  yesterday,"  suggested 
the  doctor.  "  He'll  be  tickled  to  death." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  asked  Taylor. 

"I  left  him  over  at  the  quarters.  He's  been 
24 


AT   THE    CAFE    OF  SENOR    DE   LA   RAMA 

around  making  calls  on  all  the  pretty  girls  in  town. 
There  is  nothing  slow  about  him;  he  only  struck 
town  yesterday." 

"  Can  he  speak  Spanish  ? "  inquired  Blanchard. 

"  Like  a  native.  He  was  down  in  Cuba  for  a  year 
with  a  Volunteer  Signal  Corps  or  something." 

"  Oh,  let's  take  the  youngster  with  us,"  said  Tay- 
lor. "  I  fancy  Sergeant  Everton  can  take  care  of 
things  until  morning." 

"  Everton,  Everton,"  repeated  Fairchild  slowly. 
"  Is  that  the  quartermaster-sergeant  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  he's  the  best  man  I  have  in  the  com- 
pany." 

"  I  wonder  why  I  haven't  seen  him  before,"  said 
the  doctor  thoughtfully. 

"  He's  been  up  at  Gimbalaon  in  charge  of  a 
detachment  until  last  week.  Since  then  I've  had 
him  on  duty  as  quartermaster-sergeant.  I'm  going 
to  bust  Burke  one  of  these  days  and  make  Everton 
top." 

"  Is  Everton  his  real  name  ?  "  asked  Blanchard. 

"  I  think  so.  He's  a  General  Order  40  man,  and  a 
college  man  into  the  bargain.  I'll  show  you  some  of 
the  maps  he  made  of  the  country  around  Gimbalaon. 
He  knows  more  engineering  than  I  do." 

"  He  looks  like  a  gentleman,"  observed  Eairchild. 
25 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  I  know  a  man  by  the  name  of  Everton  in  New 
York.  I  wonder  if  he  can  be  any  relation  ?  " 

"  Very  likely.  He  comes  from  there.  He  is  a 
gentleman,  if  I  am  any  judge  of  the  article,  and  he's 
a  medal  of  honor  man  into  the  bargain." 

"  Is  he  ?  "  said  Blanchard  enviously.  "  How  did 
he  win  it  ? " 

"  Saving  my  life  under  a  heavy  fire  at  Santiago," 
replied  Taylor  briefly. 

"  I  don't  wonder  that  you  want  to  make  him  top 
sergeant,  then,"  said  Fairchild. 

"  I'd  make  him  a  brigadier-general  if  I  had  the 
making  of  them,"  replied  the  other.  "  Come.  If 
we're  going  to  the  Paris  hacienda  we'd  better  be 
moving." 

A  few  moments  later  Fairchild  was  dressing  for 
the  ride,  when  his  eye  happened  to  fall  on  an  un- 
opened letter  lying  face  downward  on  the  floor. 
It  had  apparently  slipped  from  the  bunch  of  Amer- 
ican mail,  which  had  come  in  the  day  before,  and 
lain  unnoticed  all  day.  Stooping  carelessly,  he  picked 
it  up,  and  when  his  eye  fell  upon  the  handwriting 
he  gave  a  start,  staring  for  a  moment  at  the  super- 
scription. It  was  addressed  in  a  feminine  hand  to 
"  Daniel  Everton." 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  he  muttered  softly. 
26 


AT   THE    CAFE    OF  SENOR    DE   LA   RAMA 

Sinking  into  the  solitary  chair  which,  with  the  fold- 
ing cot  and  table  improvised  from  a  soap  box,  made 
up  the  furniture  of  the  room,  he  stared  intently 
at  the  letter.  He  remained  in  this  attitude  for 
several  minutes,  and  then  rising,  leaned  out  of  the 
window. 

"  Orderly,"  he  called  sharply,  "  tell  Sergeant 
Everton  I  want  to  see  him." 

A  moment  later  the  two  men  faced  each  other  in 
the  little  apartment,  the  sergeant  standing  at  atten- 
tion in  the  doorway.  His  face  was  not  visible,  owing 
to  the  gloom  in  the  room,  which  was  heightened 
rather  than  dispelled  by  a  candle  stuck  in  the  neck 
of  an  empty  beer  bottle.  He  gave  the  rifle  salute 
and  stood  waiting.  Dr.  Fairchild  leaned  against  the 
improvised  table  with  the  letter  in  his  hand  and  re- 
garded the  other  thoughtfully.  The  soldierly  per- 
sonality had  acquired  a  strong  interest  for  him. 

"  Did  you  want  to  see  me,  sir  ? "  asked  the  ser- 
geant, after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Yes.  Here  is  a  letter  for  you.  It  must  have 
gotten  in  with  mine  by  mistake  this  morning.  I 
only  found  it  just  now — on  the  floor." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Everton,  advancing  and 
taking  the  letter.  "  Anything  else,  sir  ?  " 

Fairchild  regarded  him  attentively  for  a  moment. 
27 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  You  enlisted  under  an  assumed  name  ? "  he  asked 
at  length. 

"  No,  sir."  The  voice  betrayed  no  emotion,  but  a 
slight  touch  of  surprise. 

"  That's  all,  Sergeant,"  said  the  surgeon,  turning 
briskly  upon  his  heel  and  resuming  his  occupation  of 
fastening  his  gold  collar  devices  on  to  the  stiff  collar 
of  his  white  duck  blouse.  Everton  saluted  once  more 
and  turned  toward  the  door. 

"  Oh,  Sergeant,"  added  the  doctor,  pausing  in  his 
occupation  and  examining  a  pin  prick  in  his  finger. 
"  Are  you  any  relation  to  Marshall  Everton  of  New 
York?" 

"  He  is  my  father,  sir." 

"  Indeed  ?  I  know  him  very  well.  If  there  is 
anything  I  can  do  for  you  at  any  time  let  me  know. 
That's  all." 

"  Thank  you  again,  sir,"  replied  the  sergeant,  as 
he  once  more  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  four  horsemen  were  rid- 
ing briskly  out  of  Silay  down  the  highroad  to  the 
south.  Taylor  and  Fairchild  were  in  advance,  while 
Captain  Blanchard  rode  behind  with  the  new  second 
lieutenant.  The  moon  was  just  rising,  and  the  low 
marsh  lands  toward  the  sea  were  curtained  with  a 
heavy  mist.  From  out  this  sea  of  liquid  silver  crests 

28 


AT   THE    CAFE    OF  SENOR    DE   LA  RAMA 

of  palm  trees  rose  like  fairy  islands.  Inland,  the 
mountains  were  just  visible  through  the  haze. 

The  surgeon  rode  by  Taylor's  side,  and  for  a  while 
neither  spoke.  Each  was  impressed  with  the  beauty 
of  the  scene,  and  each  was  engrossed  with  thoughts 
of  a  personal  nature.  The  two  men  had  been  friends 
for  years,  and  their  friendship  had  been  cemented  by 
mutual  association  in  war;  but  the  thoughts  which  are 
prone  to  possess  the  mind  on  a  brilliant  moonlight 
night  each  kept  to  himself. 

At  length,  when  they  had  ridden  for  a  mile  with- 
out speaking,  Dr.  Fairchild  broke  the  silence. 

"  Funny  how  small  the  world  is,"  he  said. 

"  Apropos  of  what  ?  "  said  Taylor. 

"  You  know  my  sister  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Taylor  simply,  leaning  over  and 
doing  something  to  his  stirrup  leather  that  it  did 
not  require.  "  What  about  her  ? "  he  asked,  after 
waiting  a  moment  for  the  other  to  continue. 

"  Well,  I  happened  to  get  hold  of  a  letter  to 
one  of  your  men  this  afternoon — in  with  my  mail 
by  mistake.  It  was  from  her.  Queer,  that's  all. 
I  wonder  what  the  man  is  doing  here — in  the 
ranks? " 

"  Is  it  Everton  ? " 

"  Yes.     How  did  you  know  that  ?  " 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Guessed  it,  easily  enough.  There's  only  one  man 
in  the  company  it  could  be." 

"  A  case  of  patriotic  enthusiasm,  I  suppose,"  con- 
tinued Fairchild.  "  It  seems  odd,  though,  our  run- 
ning across  him  out  here." 

This  observation  called  for  no  reply,  and  Taylor 
made  none.  They  galloped  on,  letting  the  horses 
have  their  heads  until  a  small  river  was  reached. 
Here  they  drew  up,  and  before  starting  to  ford  the 
stream  allowed  the  panting  animals  to  slake  their 
thirst  in  the  cool  water.  Taylor  looked  thoughtfully 
at  the  reflection  of  the  bamboo  brake  in  the  smooth 
surface  until  the  horses  had  drank  their  fill,  and 
then,  as  they  were  slowly  wading  across,  he  asked : 

"  How  is  your  sister  ?  " 

"  Quite  well,  thanks,  the  last  time  I  heard,"  re- 
plied Fairchild  conventionally. 

The  conversation  drifted  into  other  channels  dur- 
ing the  remainder  of  the  ride.  A  few  moments  later 
Blanchard  and  the  second  lieutenant  came  galloping 
up,  and  the  four  men  turned  down  the  broad  drive- 
way which  leads  to  the  hacienda  mansion  of  Isidro 

Paris. 

80 


Chapter 
JOSE  MISPALL  PLAYS  MONTE 

TJPPOSE  they  won.  What  sort  of  a  govern- 
ment would  we  have  with  men  like  Montilla 
at  the  head  of  it?  Bah!" 
Senor  Isidro  emphasized  this  inquiry  by  a  sweep- 
ing gesture  with  the  hand  which  held  his  knife,  and 
Taylor,  who  sat  next  to  him,  flinched  nervously  as 
the  hand  passed  him  and  returned  to  the  table  with 
a  thud.  Sefior  Isidro  was  a  large  man,  and,  notwith- 
standing his  origin,  which  was  largely  Spanish,  he 
was  of  a  darker  skin  than  Jose  Mispall,  who  sat  a 
little  way  down  the  long  table  gorging  himself  with 
food  and  drinking  a  great  deal  more  than  was  good 
for  him.  In  fact,  he  was  browner  than  most  natives, 
because  he  had  spent  his  life  under  the  rays  of  that 
tropical  sun,  which  can  turn  a  white  man  as  brown 
as  any  Malay.  His  hair  was  of  a  steel  gray,  and  his 
eyes  were  the  kind  that  can  flash  fire  when  aroused 
or  look  with  sympathy  upon  the  needs  of  a  friend. 

His  manner  was  usually  quiet  and  dignified,  but  he 

31 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

could  be  excited  too,  on  occasions,  and  few  things 
irritated  him  so  much  as  a  reference  to  the  present 
war. 

"  I  tell  you,"  he  continued,  after  a  pause,  "  what- 
ever the  government  which  the  United  States  will 
give  us  may  be,  it  will  be  one  under  which  we  can 
live  and  work  our  haciendas  and  be  safe  in  our  beds. 
That's  the  chief  point." 

"  But  is  it  true,"  asked  Mispall  thickly,  "  that  the 
people  in  the  United  States  consider  us  unfit  for  self- 
government  ? " 

"  We  are  unfit,"  replied  Paris,  "  taking  all  classes 
into  consideration.  In  America  all  men  vote;  rich 
and  poor  alike.  There  the  poor  are  educated  men, 
here  they  are  no  better  than  beasts.  Is  it  not  so, 
Senor  Teniente  ? " 

Thus  appealed  to,  Taylor  replied  tactfully :  "  In 
no  country,  Senor,  are  all  the  people  fit  for  the  fran- 
chise they  use.  In  the  United  States  we  have  thou- 
sands who  vote  without  knowing  exactly  what  they 
are  voting  for.  Now,  gentlemen  like  yourself  and 
Senor  Mispall  are  aswell  qualified  tovote  as  any  one." 

"  Ah,  but  your  proportion  must  tell  in  that  case," 
replied  the  old  man  shrewdly.  "  Here  you  may  find 
a  few  thousand  hacenderos,  merchants,  and  others 

who  are  intelligent  enough  to  vote ;  but  the  masses — 

32 


JOSE    MISPALL    PLATS    MONTE 

the  common  people."     He  did  not  finish  the  sen- 
tence, shrugging  his  shoulders  expressively. 

"  I  think  the  poorer  classes  are  pretty  fairly  intel- 
ligent," protested  Dr.  Fairchild.  "  At  least  in  the 
towns." 

"  In  the  towns,  yes,"  responded  Paris ;  "  but  the 
people  who  work  on  the  haciendas — the  taos — they  ; 
are  little  better  than  animals.     There  is  one  thing 
to  be  said,  however,"  he  added ;   "  they  are   such 
beasts  they  wouldn't  take  the  trouble  to  vote." 

"  Until  some  politician  like  our  friend  Montilla 
showed  them  how  to  convert  a  vote  in  two  dollars, 
Mex.,"  suggested  Taylor,  lighting  his  cigarette  and 
tossing  the  match-box  across  the  table  to  the  second 
lieutenant. 

"  It  isn't  a  question  of  the  franchise  or  its  abuse," 
continued  Paris.  "  I  presume  no  country  has  abso- 
lutely pure  elections.  But  if  these  people  had  their 
way  and  their  precious  independence,  we'd  all  have 
our  throats  cut.  We  lack  capable,  experienced  men 
for  the  high  places  as  badly  as  we  do  intelligent 
voters  to  place  them  there.  We  need  a  mother  coun- 
try, and  shall  for  a  generation  to  come." 

Mispall's  small  eyes  gleamed  viciously.  "  If  that  is 
what  you  call  Spain,  give  me  no  more  of  it,"  he  said. 

"  Spain  was  no  mother.      She  was  a  bad  step- 
3  33 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

mother,"  replied  Paris.     "  Thank  God,  her  rule  is 
over." 

"  Amen,"  said  Mispall,  crossing  himself  rever- 
ently, for  he  was  religious  in  his  own  superstitious 
way. 

"  What  sort  of  a  sugar  season  do  you  expect, 
Senor  ?  "  asked  Taylor,  wishing  to  turn  the  conversa- 
tion from  politics  into  less  dangerous  channels. 

"  Very  good,  I  trust.     Why  ?  "  responded  Paris. 

"  If  the  Holy  Mother  sees  fit  to  keep  the  locusts 
from  our  land,"  added  Mispall,  crossing  himself 
again. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? "  asked  the  second 
lieutenant. 

"  He  refers  to  the  pest  of  our  beautiful  island," 
explained  Paris.  "  The  locusts.  They  come  over 
from  Guimaras  and  Panay,  and  in  a  single  night  de- 
stroy a  sugar  crop  worth  thousands  of  dollars." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  kind  of  locusts  John  the  Bap- 
tist ate — grasshoppers  ?  " 

"  I  believe  they  are  the  same,"  answered  Isidro. 
"  I  should  not  care  to  eat  them,"  he  added  with  a 
grimace. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  story  ? "  asked  the  second 
lieutenant,  speaking  in  a  low  tone,  in  English,  to 
Fairchild. 

84 


JOSE    MISPALL   PLATS    MONTE 

"  What  story  ? "  asked  the  doctor,  who  had  not 
been  listening. 

"  Why,  he  says  that  flocks,  or  herds,  or  whatever 
you  call  'em,  of  locusts  come  over  from  Panay  and 
Guimaras  and  eat  up  their  sugar  crops  over  night." 

"  Yes,  it's  true.     I've  seen  them." 

"  How  the  devil  do  they  get  here — fly  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  But  it's  twenty  miles.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
that  grasshoppers  can  fly  twenty  miles  without  light- 
ing?" 

"  That's  what  I  said." 

"  It  isn't  possible,"  said  the  second  lieutenant  posi- 
tively. 

"  All  right,"  rejoined  the  doctor  laconically. 

He  was  some  ten  years  older  than  the  second  lieu- 
tenant, and  in  those  ten  years  he  had  learned  never 
to  call  anything  impossible  unless  he  had  proven  it  so. 

"  You  have  suffered  from  the  attacks  of  the  lo- 
custs ?  "  he  said,  turning  to  Mispall. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  replied  the  native.  "  For  two 
years  now  they  have  ruined  my  crop.  In  many 
ways  I  have  been  unlucky.  Fortune  has  not  smiled." 

"  You  tempt  her  too  much,  Jose,"  said  Paris,  with 
his  mouth  full  of  chicken.  "  You  play  too  high.  I 

hope  you  will  be  prudent  to-night." 

35 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Mispall  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  fine  assump- 
tion of  indifference.  "  What  matters  it,  as  long  as 
one  loses  to  one's  friends  ?  "  he  replied. 

Senor  Isidro  laughed  noisily.  "  That's  a  brave 
sentiment,  and  as  long  as  you  feel  that  way  you 
will  find  plenty  of  friends  who  will  be  willing  to 
win  your  money.  Let  us  hope  that  you  will  re- 
trieve your  recent  bad  fortune  at  the  table  this 
evening." 

Mispall  did  not  reply,  being  engaged  in  tossing  off 
a  glass  of  whisky.  He  was  beginning  the  evening 
badly  by  drinking  too  much,  and  already  his  hand 
trembled  visibly.  Of  late  his  luck  had  been  so  bad 
that  it  had  practically  completed  the  ruin  in  his  for- 
tunes begun  ten  years  before  by  idleness  and  dissipa- 
tion. Senor  Jose  was  one  of  those  men  to  whom  an 
inheritance  is  little  short  of  a  curse,  and  when  his 
father  died,  leaving  him  quite  a  considerable  fortune, 
he  had  set  to  work  to  get  rid  of  it.  It  had  taken  ten 
years  to  complete  the  work,  but  it  was  now  so  nearly 
completed  that  he  had  ridden  over  to  the  Paris  ha- 
cienda on  this  occasion  with  five  thousand  dollars  of 
borrowed  money,  with  which  he  hoped  to  win  enough 
to  set  him  on  his  feet  again.  An  old  woman  servant 
in  his  family  had  prophesied  that  he  would  win  to- 
night, and,  being  of  a  superstitious  turn  of  mind,  he 

36 


JOSE   MISPALL   PLATS    MONTE 

placed  great  confidence  in  her  prophecy,  and  was 
impatient  for  the  game  to  commence. 

A  short  silence  fell  upon  those  at  table  after 
Paris's  last  remark,  a  silence  which  was  broken  only 
by  the  noisy  mastication  of  an  old  man,  a  distant  con- 
nection of  the  family  and  a  pensioner  upon  Senor 
Isidro's  bounty,  who  rinsed  out  his  mouth  with  water, 
which  he  expectorated  onto  the  floor. 

"  I  wonder  what  he'll  do  next  ? "  said  the  second 
lieutenant  nervously,  speaking  in  an  undertone  to 
Fairchild. 

"  That's  about  the  limit,  I  fancy.  He'll  go  to 
sleep  before  long." 

Having  satisfied  his  appetite,  the  young  officer 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  looked  about  him.  He 
had  not  yet  fully  recovered  from  the  astonishment 
which  had  been  his  upon  his  introduction  to  this  re- 
markable household.  He  was  having  his  first  ex- 
perience of  Philippine  hospitality,  and  the  whole 
establishment  was  a  revelation  to  him. 

His  ideas  concerning  the  natives  of  the  big  archi- 
pelago had  been,  up  to  the  time  when  he  reported 
in  Manila  a  week  before,  derived  exclusively  from 
American  newspapers.  Those  which  had  made  the 
most  impression  on  him  were  illustrated  weeklies 

showing  family  groups  of  half  naked  savages  stand- 

87 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

ing  about  with  bows  and  arrows  arid  labeled,  "  Our 
enemies  in  the  Philippines." 

The  room  in  which  he  now  found  himself  was  at 
least  fifty  feet  in  length  and  opened  upon  a  big  veran- 
da running  around  the  house.  It  was  lavishly  fur- 
nished, and  the  floors  were  of  some  dark,  highly 
polished  hard  wood.  A  half  dozen  muchachos  served 
them,  and  pressed  upon  those  present  many  and  vari- 
ous beverages.  Paris  himself  drank  but  little,  know- 
ing too  well  the  climate  of  his  native  land  to  mix 
champagne,  beer,  and  whisky  as  the  second  lieu- 
tenant was  doing. 

Of  the  others  at  the  table,  there  were,  besides 
Senora  Paris,  two  women,  the  one  her  sister  and  the 
other  her  niece.  The  former  had  recently  presented 
her  spouse  with  a  son  and  heir,  whom  she  brought  to 
dinner  with  her.  The  head  of  the  household  ignored 
their  presence  during  the  meal,  and  when,  on  two 
occasions,  the  second  lieutenant  attempted  to  en- 
gage the  younger  woman  in  conversation,  his  efforts 
met  with  slight  success.  Blanchard  studied  them 
curiously,  being  unable  to  join  in  the  conversation, 
and  consequently  finding  the  dinner  monotonous. 

The  four  Americans  had  not  arrived  until  after 
nine  o'clock,  and  by  the  time  the  meal  was  over  it 
was  eleven.  As  soon  as  they  had  finished,  the  women 

38 


JOSE    MISPALL    PLATS    MONTE 

withdrew  to  their  own  apartments  and  the  men 
sought  the  next  room,  where  the  table  had  been  ar- 
ranged. The  other  guests  of  the  evening  now  began 
to  arrive.  There  were  about  twenty  of  them,  the 
owners  of  neighboring  haciendas  and  young  men  of 
sporting  proclivities  from  Silay  and  Talisay.  They 
smoked  excessively,  and  talked  excitedly  among 
themselves  of  their  recent  losses  or  successes  at  cards, 
of  the  prospects  for  the  season's  sugar  crop,  and  of 
many  other  themes  of  local  interest. 

The  game  began  almost  immediately  by  request 
of  Mispall,  who  was  impatient  to  realize  on  the 
prophecy  of  his  old  servant,  and  a  silence  fell  upon 
those  in  the  room  as  Paris  went  to  the  bank  and  the 
young  caballeros  began  to  bet. 

It  was  extremely  hot,  and  the  air  was  laden  with 
tobacco  smoke.  Outside  the  moon  was  high  in  the 
heavens,  and  the  soft  air  of  the  April  evening,  fresh 
with  the  earthly  freshness  of  the  early  morning 
hours,  came  into  the  overheated  room  from  the  broad 
verandas.  Invited  by  the  cool  air  without,  Taylor 
and  the  Volunteer  Captain  left  a  group  of  natives 
who  were  hanging  over  the  table  and  withdrew  to 
the  veranda.  They  threw  themselves  into  the  long 
cane  chairs  which  they  found  there,  and  were  for  a 

few  moments  absorbed  in  admiration  of  the  beauty 

39 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

of  the  night.  After  the  overheated  house  they  had 
left,  the  cool  air  was  grateful  to  their  flushed  faces. 

"  Well,  I  must  confess  that  this  is  an  unique  house- 
hold," said  Blanchard.  "  I  never  expected  to  find 
anything  like  this  out  here." 

"  Are  you  enjoying  yourself  ? "  asked  Taylor, 
drawing  contentedly  at  his  cigar  and  watching  the 
smoke  drift  over  the  railing  and  disappear  in  the 
moonlight. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  suppose  I  would  have  more  fun  out 
of  it  if  I  spoke  the  language." 

"  That  will  come  in  time.  What  do  you  think  of 
our  friend  Paris  1 " 

"  He  seems  to  be  a  remarkable  man,  in  his  way. 
Is  he  really  friendly  to  us — really  loyal  to  the  United 
States?" 

"  Yes,  entirely  so,  I  fancy,"  replied  Taylor,  with 
a  yawn.  "  For  some  time  he  may  have  been  on  the 
fence,  but  now  that  he  knows  that  we  are  here  to 
stay,  he  wants  this  revolutionary  spirit  to  quiet  down, 
so  he  can  work  his  haciendas.  What  he  wants  is  a 
staple  government.  He  belongs  to  the  class  who 
have  lost  money  by  this  war.  Still,  I  have  no  doubt 
he  occasionally  contributes  to  the  other  side,  even 
now." 

"  What  makes  you  think  that?  " 
40 


JOSE   MISPALL   PLAYS    MONTE 

"  I  judge  it  from  the  fact  that  he  is  never  dis- 
turbed by  our  friends  out  in  the  hills  there."  Taylor 
waved  his  cigar  toward  the  dim  outline  of  the  moun- 
tains. "  I  have  never  heard  of  their  troubling  him." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  insurgents  ?  " 

"  That's  what  they  call  themselves.  In  reality 
they  are  nothing  but  a  lot  of  bandits.  This  revolu- 
tion is  kept  up  by  the  class  whom  we  may  term  rich 
malcontents.  By  that  I  mean  some  of  the  wealthy 
hacenderos,  who  are  naturally  gamblers  and  idlers." 

"  If  they  are  gamblers  and  idlers,"  interrupted  the 
captain,  "  how  did  they  acquire  all  this  wealth  ?  " 

"  Did  you  never  hear,"  asked  Taylor  dryly,  "  of 
a  gambler  and  idler  inheriting  money  from  a  sober 
and  industrious  parent?  Well,  I  presume  that  is 
where  men  like  Mispall  in  there  get  theirs.  I  don't 
imagine  that  Jose  ever  did  a  stroke  of  work  in  his 
life.  When  you  have  a  couple  of  sons  of  your  own, 
some  day,  to  blow  in  more  money  in  a  night  than 
you  make  in  a  month,  you  will  understand  about  the 
Great  Creator's  system  of  keeping  things  even  in 
this  world.  I  know  one  young  man  on  this  island 
who  came  in  last  month  with  a  party  of  ladrones  and 
burned  up  his  own  father's  hacienda,  just  because 
the  old  man  got  tired  of  paying  his  debts.  It's  men 
like  that,  aided  and  abetted  by  fellows  like  our  friend 

41 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Mispall,  who  cause  all  the  trouble.  They  are  not 
patriots  in  any  sense  of  the  word.  Some  of  them 
live  in  the  coast  towns,  under  the  very  noses  of  the 
Americans,  and  hold  commissions  in  the  insurgent 
army." 

"  Does  Paris,  himself,  mix  in  politics  ?  " 
"  Not  so  much  now  as  formerly.     He  was  at  one 
time  governor  of  the  island.     At  present  he  devotes 
his  time  to  making  more  money." 

"  I  don't  blame  him.  Is  he  very  rich  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  believe  so.  Millions,  probably.  He  told 
me  once  that  he  made  seventy  thousand  a  year  on 
this  hacienda  alone.  He  owns  several  others  in  the 
south  and  a  lot  of  houses  in  the  different  towns  near 
here.  He  rents  these  at  fabulous  prices  to  us  now. 
We  pay  four  hundred  a  month  for  that  house  in 
Silay,  where  our  quarters  are.  He  never  got  more 
than  fifty  for  it  in  the  old  Spanfeh  days." 

Blanchard  was  not  surprised.  He  was  now  pre- 
pared to  believe  any  tale,  however  extraordinary,  of 
the  wealth  of  his  host.  He  was  of  a  nature  to  be 
impressed  by  externals,  and  already  began  to  regard 
Paris  with  a  respect  which  he  had  never  imagined  he 
could  have  for  a  "nigger."  He  smoked  thought- 
fully and  looked  out  over  the  acres  of  cane  fields 

which  lay  before  them. 

42 


JOSE    MISPALL    PLATS    MONTE 

"  Is  the  fighting  all  over  out  here  ? "  he  asked, 
after  a  long  pause. 

"  Pretty  nearly.  We  may  have  a  skirmish  or  so 
from  time  to  time." 

The  Volunteer  was  disgusted.  "  I  came  out  here 
to  fight,"  he  said.  "  If  the  war  is  over,  I  might  as 
well  resign  and  go  into  the  sugar  business.  I  won- 
der if  old  Paris  wants  a  partner  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure;  you  might  ask  him.  Are 
you  tired  of  soldiering — already  ?  " 

"  I  don't  call  this  soldiering.  This  is  going  out 
into  society." 

Taylor  laughed.  "  You'll  have  all  the  soldiering 
you  want  when  you  get  to  Escalante,"  he  replied. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  there's  a  chance  of  scrap  up 
there?" 

"  No,  not  fighting,  necessarily;  but  plenty  of  scout- 
ing around  the  country." 

Blanchard  was  about  to  ask  another  question  when 
a  figure  darkened  the  open  doorway  of  the  veranda, 
and,  looking  up,  Taylor  observed  the  second  lieu- 
tenant. 

"  Hello,  youngster,"  he  called.  "  Having  a  good 
time  ? " 

"  Oh,  there  you  are !  What  are  you  fellows  doing 
out  here  ?  " 

48 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Enjoying  life  in  our  own  quiet  way,"  replied  the 
other,  looking  at  his  watch.  It  was  after  midnight, 
and  he  was  tired,  having  been  up  since  dawn  of  the 
previous  day.  "  I  think  we  had  better  be  going." 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  the  second  lieutenant,  excitedly, 
advancing  to  where  the  two  men  were  sitting, 
"  there's  a  big  game  on  in  there,  and  our  friend  Mis- 
pall  is  getting  it  in  the  neck — losing  five  hundred 
and  a  thousand  at  a  clip.  He's  made  Paris  play  with 
him,  and  all  the  others  have  dropped  out.  You  had 
better  come  in  and  see  the  fun." 

"  By  George !  "  exclaimed  Taylor,  rising  to  his 
feet.  "  It  will  be  one  of  their  big  games.  The  play 
doesn't  often  run  as  high  as  that.  It  will  continue 
until  somebody  is  ruined,  and  it  won't  be  old  Paris, 
I  fancy.  I'm  sorry  for  that  poor  devil  Mispall." 

When  the  three  men  entered  the  room  where  the 
game  was  in  progress,  they  at  once  noticed  the  air 
of  suppressed  excitement  which  prevailed.  At  the 
end  of  the  table  sat  Senor  Paris,  who  was  receiving 
the  bets  of  Mispall.  The  elder  man's  composure  and 
gravity  were-in  strong  contrast  to  the  almost  frenzied 
excitement  of  his  young  neighbor.  Senor  Jose,  dis- 
carding all  attempts  to  play  with  any  caution,  leaned 
over  the  table  and  placed  his  bets  wildly.  He  was 

already  a  ruined  man,  and  the  quality  of  honesty 

44 


was  not  sufficiently  developed  in  his  character  to  pre- 
vent his  playing  after  he  knew  he  could  not  hope  to 
make  good  his  losses.  Indeed,  he  bet  with  even 
greater  freedom  and  extravagance  now  that  he  was 
wagering  the  credit  of  a  hopeless  bankrupt  against 
the  good  money  of  his  host.  Fortune  had  been 
against  him  from  the  first,  but  he  had  continued  to 
play,  hoping  that  a  lucky  stroke  might  put  him  on 
his  feet  again.  In  the  short  time  the  Americans  had 
been  out  of  the  room  he  had  lost  over  six  thousand 
dollars,  and,  altho  several  of  his  more  intimate 
friends  remonstrated  with  him,  it  was  without 
avail. 

The  play  continued  for  some  time  after  Taylor  and 
the  captain  entered  the  room,  Paris  reserving  the 
same  calm  and  imperturbable  exterior.  His  excite- 
ment, if  he  had  any,  was  only  shown  by  his  puffing 
on  the  long,  black  cheroot  which  was  held  tightly 
between  his  lips.  Like  all  of  his  race,  he  was  often 
excitable  when  there  was  no  occasion  for  it,  but  when 
it  was  a  question  of  money  he  dropped  the  affable, 
social  man  and  took  on  the  cool  and  calculating  man 
of  business.  High  play  was  by  no  means  a  novel 
form  of  amusement  with  him;  tho,  to  do  him  jus- 
tice, had  he  known  that  Mispall  was  ruining  him- 
self, he  would  have  stopped  the  game  long  since  and 

45 


D4NIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

closed  the  bank.  He  had,  indeed,  made  one  or  two 
suggestions  to  this  effect,  but  they  had  met  with  im- 
passioned remonstrance. 

Mispall's  brother  now  approached  him  and  laid  a 
restraining  hand  on  his  sleeve. 

"  Don't  tempt  fortune  any  more  to-night,  Jose," 
he  said.  "  The  luck  is  strong  against  you." 

Mispall  brushed  him  fiercely  to  one  side.  The 
state  of  semi-intoxication  in  which  he  left  the  dinner 
table  had  been  increased  by  his  drinking  freely 
through  the  game,  and  even  now  he  stopped  long 
enough  to  go  to  the  refreshment  table  and  toss  off 
a  glass  of  whisky. 

"  Caramba !  "  he  replied  hoarsely.  "  Do  you 
think  I  can  stop  now  ?  The  luck  must  turn." 

"  Very  well;  but  one  word  more,"  added  his 
brother  in  a  low  tone,  as  Jose  again  started  for  the 
table.  "  Play  low  until  the  luck  does  turn,  and  then 
bet  high  if  you  want  to  win." 

Acting  upon  this  suggestion,  Jose  returned  to  the 
table  and  very  cautiously  placed  a  hundred  dollars 
on  the  king  to  lose.  Paris  dealt  swiftly,  and  after 
several  cards  had  come  up,  the  king  made  his  ap- 
pearance in  the  losing  pile. 

"  Bueno !  "  exclaimed  his  brother.  "  Now  place 
two  bets." 

46 


JOSE   MISPALL   PLATS   MONTE 

"  Mind  your  own  business !  "  growled  Jose,  un- 
gratefully. "  I  can  attend  to  mine." 

At  this  the  brother  shrugged  his  shoulders  expres- 
sively and  withdrew  to  the  other  side  of  the  table. 

Again  Jose  bet,  this  time  placing  two  hundred  dol- 
lars each  on  the  ace  and  nine  spot,  playing  the  former 
to  win  and  the  latter  to  lose.  Paris  dealt,  and  the 
two  cards  were  the  first  to  come  up.  Mispall  had 
won  four  hundred  dollars. 

"  You  see,"  he  shouted,  addressing  his  brother, 
"  the  luck  has  turned.  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Go  slow,  then,  and  don't  abuse  it,"  returned  the 
other  curtly. 

There  are  times  when  good  advice  is  the  worst  ad- 
vice to  give.  It  excites  antagonism  and  makes  the 
one  advised  take  the  wrong  road  when  he  might  have 
taken  the  right  one,  if  left  to  himself.  Such  was  the 
case  in  this  instance.  Jose  was  in  that  stage  of 
drunkenness  when  he  placed  a  higher  valuation  on 
his  own  judgment  than  on  that  of  any  one  else. 

"  You  are  a  fool !  "  he  retorted  angrily.  "  When 
I  was  losing  I  bet  high,  and  now  that  I  win,  you 
would  have  me  play  low." 

He  then  turned  to  the  table,  and  very  deliberately 
placed  one  thousand  dollars  each  on  the  center  of 
four  cards.  At  this  tremendous  bet  there  was  a  silence 

47 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

in  the  room  for  an  instant,  for  even  the  more  reckless 
of  the  gamblers  present  were  startled  at  its  magni- 
tude. Then  every  one  began  to  talk  at  once,  and 
the  room  was  in  an  uproar. 

"  Bravo,  Jose !  "  shouted  one  of  the  younger  hot- 
heads, slapping  Mispall  on  the  back  approvingly. 
"  You  show  the  proper  spirit." 

The  older  and  more  conservative  men  were  aghast. 
"  Don't  accept  such  a  bet,"  said  one  of  them  to  Paris. 
"  It  will  ruin  him  if  he  loses." 

The  words  reached  Mispall  as  he  stood  at  the  other 
side  of  the  table,  his  arms  folded  and  his  manner 
sending  forth  a  challenge  to  the  world  in  general 
and  the  bank  in  particular. 

"  Do  you  refuse  my  bet  ?  "  he  demanded  in  a  high 
voice,  which  silenced  all  the  others  in  the  room. 

Paris  shuffled  the  cards  slowly  and  smoked 
thoughtfully.  In  the  years  that  were  gone  he  had 
known  MispalPs  father  intimately,  and  this  fact  had 
given  him  a  more  than  neighborly  interest  in  the 
son.  He  hesitated. 

"  I  do  not  refuse  your  bet,"  he  said  at  length,  "  but 
I  advise  you  not  to  make  it." 

"You  are  not  the  one  to  give  such  advice,  Senor," 
replied  Mispall,  with  an  insulting  sneer.  "  You  have 
won  six  thousand  dollars." 


JOSE    MISPALL    PLAYS    MONTE 

"  Then  why  make  it  four  more  ?  "  remonstrated 
Paris.  "  I  may  win  all  four  bets." 

"  And  I  may  win  all  four.  Do  you  refuse  me  the 
opportunity  ? " 

"  I  have  refused  you  nothing,  Jose,"  said  the  old 
man  in  a  conciliatory  tone. 

"  Will  you  deal  ?  "  demanded  Mispall  roughly. 

Paris  rose  to  his  feet,  and  drawing  up  his  bent 
frame  to  its  full  height,  looked  at  the  other  quietly 
in  the  eye. 

"  At  my  convenience,  Senor,"  he  said  with  dignity. 

"  Let  some  one  else  shuffle  the  pack,"  exclaimed 
Eicardo  Mispall. 

"  I'll  shuffle  them,"  said  the  second  lieutenant, 
who  stood  next  to  Paris,  holding  out  his  hand. 

Dr.  Fairchild  placed  a  restraining  grasp  upon  the 
young  man's  arm.  "  Better  keep  out  of  this,"  he 
said  curtly  in  English.  "  Whoever  loses  won't  thank 
you." 

The  young  officer  dropped  his  hand,  and  a  hacen- 
dero  who  stood  on  Senor  Isidro's  left  took  the  pack 
and  shuffled  it.  A  tense  silence  fell  upon  the  occu- 
pants of  the  room  as  Paris  once  more  received  the 
cards  and  began  to  deal. 

And  then  followed  such  a  run  of  luck  as  many 
gamblers  go  through  their  lives  without  witnessing. 
4  49 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

The  first  four  cards  to  pass  into  the  losing  pile  were 
those  which  Mispall  had  backed  to  win.  His  losses 
for  the  evening  now  amounted  to  ten  thousand 
dollars.  As  one  card  after  another  was  turned  up, 
and  he  saw  his  money  slipping  away,  a  thousand  at 
a  time,  his  face  grew  purple  and  his  breath  came  in 
quick  gasps. 

Fairchild  was  the  only  one  of  those  about  the  table 
who  was  not  too  engrossed  by  the  fascination  of  the 
deal  to  notice  him.  The  doctor  glanced  down  the 
table  to  where  Mispall  was  standing,  and  when  he 
saw  the  dull  pallor  which  had  replaced  the  flush  on 
the  native's  face  he  passed  quickly  around,  reaching 
him  just  as  the  last  card  of  the  four  was  dealt  to  lose. 
Senor  Jose's  legs  began  to  tremble,  and  an  instant 
later  gave  way  entirely.  Fairchild  caught  him  as  he 
fell,  and  then,  with  the  assistance  of  the  second 
lieutenant,  carried  the  unconscious  man  out  of  the 
room  and  laid  him  upon  the  floor  of  the  veranda. 

An  hour  or  so  later,  the  four  officers  bade  Mispall 
"  good-night "  at  the  door  of  his  house  and  rode  on 
to  their  own  quarters.  The  native  had  quickly  re- 
covered from  the  faint  into  which  he  had  fallen  at 
the  Paris  hacienda,  but  was  still  heavily  under  the 

influence  of  drink. 

50 


JOSE    MISPALL    PLAYS    MONTE 

Left  to  himself,  he  shivered  in  the  chill  air  as  he 
gave  his  horse  to  a  sleepy  inuchacho,  and  entering 
his  house,  slowly  ascended  the  stairs.  As  he  reached 
the  top  step  his  foot  came  in  contact  with  something 
soft.  It  was  Benita  Llopis,  who  was  sleeping  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs.  It  was  she  who  had  made  the 
prophecy  that  this  was  to  be  his  lucky  night  at  cards. 

Ever  since  he  had  regained  consciousness,  Jose 
had  been  controlling,  by  a  strong  effort,  his  naturally 
violent  and  brutal  temper.  Freed  now  from  the  -  e- 
straint  placed  upon  him  by  the  presence  of  the 
others,  he  gave  way  to  an  impulse  sent  by  his  evil 
genius  and  kicked  the  old  woman  viciously  in  the 
side.  She  gave  a  sharp  cry,  and  rolled  quickly  out 
of  the  way  as  her  master  staggered  across  the  hall- 
way to  his  own  room.  This  he  entered  after  fum- 
bling for  a  moment  with  the  door  handle,  and  throw- 
ing himself  upon  the  bed  fell  into  a  drunken  stupor. 

51 


Chapter  IV 
TWO  PATRIOTS  PLAN  A  CAMPAIGN 

T  was  after  nine  o'clock  when  Mispall  opened 
his  bloodshot  eyes  and  stared  stupidly  at  the 
canopy  of  his  four-poster  bed.  For  several 
minutes  he  was  unable  to  recall  distinctly  the  events 
of  the  preceding  evening,  but  lay  upon  his  back,  the 
bullet-shaped  head  turned  toward  the  window,  the 
face  looking  haggard  and  drawn  in  the  dim  light. 
The  meager  rays  which  had  succeeded  in  penetrating 
the  opaque,  sea-shell  window-panes  gave  no  sugges- 
tion of  the  fierce  sunlight  without.  It  does  not  take 
many  hours  for  the  sun  of  the  equator  to  rob  the 
earth  of  all  morning  freshness,  and  by  nine  o'clock 
the  day  was  heavy  with  the  still,  quiet  heat  of  a 
northern  noontide.  A  faint  breeze  was,  indeed, 
blowing  fitfully  from  the  sea,  but  no  part  of  it  en- 
tered the  gloomy  apartment,  in  which  the  air  was 
foul  and  oppressive. 

The  room  was  almost  bare  of  furniture.      The 

dirty  blotches  on  the  walls  showed  where  the  rains 

52 


TWO   PATRIOTS   PLAN  A   CAMPAIGN 

of  more  than  one  wet  season  had  entered,  and  the 
whole  house  was  suggestive  of  neglect  and  decay. 
The  long  mirror  set  into  the  wall,  to  reflect,  perhaps, 
the  beauties  of  some  vain  little  senorita  of  bygone 
days,  was  now  disfigured  by  a  large  crack  extending 
across  its  face.  The  carved  wooden  cupid,  which 
had  once  occupied  a  conspicuous  position  on  its  top, 
was  now  enjoying  an  armless  repose,  covered  with 
dust  and  cobwebs,  in  one  corner  of  the  room.  Upon 
the  cane  bottom  of  the  bed  was  a  straw  matting, 
crumpled  and  badly  soiled.  No  other  bedding  was 
needed  by  the  man  who  lay  there,  fully  dressed,  and 
on  whose  face  the  perspiration  stood  out  in  large 
beads. 

As  he  slowly  recovered  the  use  of  his  faculties, 
there  came  to  Senor  Jose  a  physical  and  mental  pang 
simultaneously.  This  is  not  an  unusual  combination 
of  visitors  with  a  man  who  has  spent  the  night  in 
dissipation.  Together  with  the  recollection  of  his 
losses  at  cards  the  evening  before,  he  felt  a  sharp 
pain,  which  seemed  to  split  his  head  with  its  violence. 
He  groaned  aloud,  and  presently  nature's  demand 
for  purer  air  overcame  his  lethargy.  Staggering  to 
his  feet,  he  crossed  unsteadily  to  the  large  window, 
and,  pushing  it  wide  open,  leaned  across  the  sill, 
blinded  by  the  dazzling  light  which  flooded  the  room. 

53 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Outside,  the  town  was  still  with  the  stillness  of  in- 
tense heat;  a  silence  which  surpassed  that  of  mid- 
night. The  commercial  activity  which  comes  with 
dawn  in  the  tropics  had  subsided,  and  even  the 
dogs  were  quiet.  As  his  eyes  became  more  accus- 
tomed to  the  light,  and  the  fierce  pain  in  his  head 
settled  into  a  dull  ache,  he  glanced  vacantly  about 
him. 

Mispall's  house  was  located  upon  a  long  and  dusty 
highway  near  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  A  few 
other  dwellings  of  nipa  lined  the  road  on  either  side, 
and  then  came  the  open  country,  the  rich  hacienda 
lands,  and,  far  beyond,  the  blue  mountains.  A  herd 
of  swine — those  scavengers  of  the  town — grunted 
contentedly  beneath  a  shack  across  the  dusty  street, 
in  the  middle  of  which  lay  a  naked  little  brown  boy 
of  three  years,  playing  with  a  big  game  chicken. 
The  bird,  seemingly  perplexed  by  the  silence  which 
reigned,  or  perhaps  anxious  to  recall  to  the  memory 
of  the  dwellers  in  the  street  his  victory  in  the  cockpit 
the  preceding  Sunday,  flapped  his  wings  and  gave 
utterance  to  his  high  spirits  in  a  shrill  crow. 

His  attention  drawn  by  the  sound,  Mispall  glanced 
up  the  road.  His  eye  traveled  past  the  child  and  its 
pet  and  rested  upon  the  figure  of  a  horseman  some 
distance  away,  who  was  riding  into  the  town  from 

54 


TWO   PATRIOTS   PLAN  A   CAMPAIGN 

the  direction  of  one  of  the  mountain  villages.  He 
was  still  too  far  off  to  be  recognized,  but  Mispall  con- 
tinued to  watch  him  idly,  as  his  thoughts  reverted  to 
his  trouble. 

He  had  just  begun  to  recognize  the  disagreeable 
fact  that  he  could  not  hope  to  keep  off  any  longer  the 
final  hour  of  settlement.  His  creditors  had  been 
exceedingly  pressing  of  late,  and  he  owed  many 
gambling  debts,  beside  a  host  of  others  more  legiti- 
mately contracted.  A  man  may  run  through  a 
fortune  without  feeling  any  very  severe  pang  until 
he  reaches  the  end,  but  the  hour  comes  at  length 
when  the  last  dollar  is  gone;  when  the  daily  neces- 
sary expenditures  have  only  an  empty  pocket  to  be 
met  from,  and  he  then  realizes  what  the  word  "  ruin  " 
means.  That  moment,  with  its  attendant  horrors, 
had  now  come  to  Mispall,  and  the  temptation  to 
crime,  which  comes  with  it  to  weak  natures,  was  rap- 
idly drawing  near.  It  was  coming  in  the  person  of 
the  solitary  horseman  approaching  from  the  moun- 
tains and  urging  his  jaded  horse  forward  through  a 
cloud  of  dust. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  Mispall  muttered  to  himself, 
pressing  a  hot  hand  against  his  aching  head.  As 
tho  in  answer  to  the  query,  the  horseman  drew 

near  and,  looking  up,  recognized  Mispall. 

55 


DANIEL   EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Buenas  dias,  Jose,"  he  called  gaily,  waving  his 
hand.  "  May  one  enter  ?  " 

"  Come  up,"  replied  Mispall,  returning  the  salu- 
tation as  he  recognized  the  other  to  be  one  Bernar- 
dino Rigon,  chief  of  a  small  band  of  insurgents  who 
were  entrenched  in  the  jungle  some  twenty  miles 
inland  from  Silay.  As  Mizpall  recognized  him,  there 
came  to  him  a  possible  solution  of  his  difficulty — a 
solution  in  itself  hazardous,  but  desperate  men  are 
ever  ready  to  try  desperate  remedies ;  a  solution  that 
was  criminal,  but  men  who  lead  idle  and  dissolute 
lives  are  apt  to  find  it  a  short  path  which  leads  from 
idleness  to  crime,  and  one  down  which,  when  driven 
by  poverty,  it  is  only  too  easy  to  turn.  More  idle 
men  might  take  this  path  than  do  were  their  need  as 
pressing  as  MispalPs. 

El  Capitan  Rigon  was  a  dual  character  and  en- 
joyed the  part  hugely.  His  nature  was  essentially 
dramatic  in  its  tendencies,  and  the  double  role  of 
hacendero  and  insurgent  was  one  that  delighted  him. 
His  ears  were  not  as  accustomed  to  the  hum  of  bullets 
as  were  his  shoulders  to  the  gorgeous  pair  of  gold 
shoulder  straps  which  formed  a  conspicuous  part  of 
his  showy  uniform.  He  was  a  rake  of  an  agreeable 
sort,  who  liked  to  play  at  war  provided  he  had  some 
secure  place  from  which  to  direct  the  movement  of 

56 


TWO   PATRIOTS   PLAN  A   CAMPAIGN 

his  force  and  two  or  three  underlings  to  write  for 
him  the  stilted  letters  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
sending  to  the  other  insurgent  officers  in  Negros  and 
Panay. 

On  the  present  occasion  he  was  attired  in  a  suit  of 
white  linen;  looking,  despite  his  early  morning  ride, 
very  fresh  and  clean.  As  he  dismounted  and  gave 
his  horse  to  one  of  Mispall's  servants,  he  hummed 
gaily  an  air  from  one  of  the  comic  operas  in  which, 
as  the  best  singer  in  the  town,  he  had  once  taken  a 
leading  role.  As  he  advanced  and  ascended  the 
stairway  he  twirled  with  one  hand  a  meager,  black 
mustache,  the  pride  and  at  the  same  time  the  dis- 
appointment of  his  life.  His  two  great  ambitions 
were  to  be  a  general  and  to  own  a  pair  of  mustaches 
such  as  he  had  once  seen  in  a  picture  of  the  King  of 
Italy.  In  both  of  which  he  was  destined  to  disap- 
pointment. 

He  extended  his  hand  to  Jose,  who  had  come  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs  to  meet  him,  and  they  exchanged 
an  effusive  greeting. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mispall. 

"  Your  pleasure  is  reciprocated,  my  friend,"  re- 
plied the  debonair  captain,  flecking  the  dust  from 
his  boots  with  his  riding-whip.  "  Have  you  break- 
fasted?" 

57 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Not  yet.     You  will  join  me  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure.     You  are  late  this  morning." 

"  Say  late  last  night,  rather." 

"  You  were  at  the  house  of  Isidro  Paris  ?  " 

"  Yes.     How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  News  travels  fast  sometimes.     I  am  sorry." 

"  You  are  unusually  sympathetic,"  said  Mispall 
with  a  slight  sneer,  as  they  took  their  seats.  He 
poured  out  a  cup  of  chocolate  and  waved  his  hand 
toward  the  pot,  inviting  Eigon  to  help  himself.  Old 
Benita,  who  was  still  reminded  of  Mispall's  brutality 
by  a  sharp  pain  in  her  side,  having  brought  in  the 
breakfast  tray,  withdrew  to  the  other  side  of  the 
room  and  began  to  wipe  off  a  chair  with  a  dirty  rag. 

"  You  over-estimate  my  concern  for  your  welfare," 
replied  Rigon  coolly,  pouring  out  his  chocolate  and 
eating  a  rice  cake  with  relish,  for  his  ride  had  made 
him  hungry.  "  I  am  sorry  you  lost,  for  your  own 
sake,  but  I  think  of  myself  first  from  force  of  habit. 
I  want  some  of  the  money  you  owe  me." 

"  Well,  you  know  I  haven't  it.  I  will  repay  you 
when  I  can." 

"  You  owe  others,  too;  will  you  pay  me  first  ?  " 

"  Certainly.     Can  you  doubt  it  ?  " 

"  One  finds  it  easy  to  doubt." 

Mispall's  small  eyes  glittered  with  an  unfriendly 
58 


TWO    PATRIOTS    PLAN  A    CAMPAIGN 

light,  and  he  started  to  make  a  retort,  but  controlled 
the  impulse.  He  had  good  reason  for  not  wishing 
to  quarrel  with  the  man  to  whom  he  looked  for  aid 
in  a  desperate  enterprise.  He  leaned  across  the 
board,  smearing  his  elbow  in  the  can  of  obnoxious 
butter,  and  whispered  insinuatingly : 

"  If  I  thought  I  could  trust  you " 

Rigon  put  down  his  cup  and  returned  the  other's 
glance. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Get  farther  away ;  your 
breath  is  offensive." 

Mispall  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  folded  his 
arms. 

"  I  mean,"  he  continued,  "  that  there  is  a  way  by 
which  I  can  get  the  money,  and  more,  too — a  way  to 
make  us  both  rich — if  you  will  aid  me." 

As  Rigon  did  not  reply  immediately,  Mispall 
continued :  "  What,  think  you,  should  be  the  fate 
of  a  man  who,  while  our  countryman,  is  our  coun- 
try's enemy?  Who  is  a  traitor,  and  wants  the 
Americanos  to  govern — thinking  us  unfit  to  gov- 
ern ourselves?  Voicing  this  treachery  before  a 
lot  of  American  officers.  What  should  be  the  fate 
of  such  a  man  ?  " 

"  Death !  "  said  Rigon,  as  dramatically  as  was  pos- 
sible with  his  mouth  full  of  rice  cake. 

59 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"Ah,  yes;  you  say  truly."  Mispall,  leaning 
forward  once  more,  continued :  "  He  should  be 
killed;  his  life  is  a  sacrifice,  he  being  an  enemy, 
and  worse  than  that — a  traitor.  Now,  how  about 
his  money  ? " 

"  Who  is  he,  and  how  much  has  he  ? "  asked 
Rigon,  coming  to  the  point  at  once,  now  that  money 
was  mentioned. 

Mispall  did  not  heed  the  interruption.  "  What 
does  our  country  need  so  much  as  money,"  he  pur- 
sued; "  money  with  which  to  buy  arms  and  cartridges 
and  " — he  added  diplomatically — "  with  which  to 
pay  the  salaries  of  her  officers  ?  " 

Rigon  was  not  slow  to  see  the  drift  of  the  other's 
argument.  "  What  is  it  that  you  propose  ? "  he 
asked,  taking  another  rice  cake.  He  had  seen 
enough  of  soldiering  to  show  him  that  a  breakfast 
was  not  a  thing  to  be  despised,  even  in  the  weightiest 
of  councils. 

"  I  wonder,"  continued  Mispall,  musingly,  looking 
at  the  other  as  though  to  read  his  character  and  gage 
the  depth  of  his  patriotism ;  "  I  wonder  whether  you 
are  one  to  look  upon  a  matter  broadly — whether  you 
could  be  made  to  see  that  the  end  justifies  the 
means  ? " 

Rigon  stopped  eating  and  looked  the  other  steadily 
60 


TWO    PATRIOTS   PLAN  A    CAMPAIGN 

in  the  eye.     "  I  will  consider  any  proposition  which 
means  money,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  Good !  Then  listen."  Mispall  leaned  across 
the  table  and  lowered  his  voice.  As  he  opened  his 
lips  to  speak,  he  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  Benita 
had  not  left  the  room.  "  I  can't  talk  here,"  he  said, 
rising,  and  indicating  her  with  a  jerk  of  his  head. 
"  Come  into  my  room." 

Eigon  gulped  down  what  remained  of  the  choco- 
late, and  then  followed  Mispall  into  the  room  in 
which  the  latter  had  passed  the  night. 

Jose  closed  the  door  and  locked  it  on  the  inside. 
When  he  had  done  so,  Benita  crossed  the  hall  silently 
and  applied  her  ear  to  the  keyhole.  For  a  long  time 
she  crouched  there,  and  then,  rising,  hurried  to  the 
head  of  the  stairway.  Here  she  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  though  uncertain  whether  to  go  or  stay.  At 
this  moment  the  door  of  the  bedroom  was  opened 
and  the  head  of  her  master  thrust  forth. 

"  What  are  you  doing  there,  you  old  devil  ? "  he 
demanded  roughly. 

She  hesitated  no  longer,  but  left  the  house  and 
crossed  the  Plaza  to  the  building  in  which  the  Amer- 
ican garrison  was  quartered. 

61 


Chapter  V 
ONE  CASUALTY 

the  afternoon  of  the  day  following  Mis- 
pall's  conference  with  Rigon  the  rainy  season 
descended  upon  the  island,  and  in  the  course 
of  a  few  hours  the  dry,  dusty  roads  became  sodden 
with  a  heavy,  black  mud.  The  travelers  who  ven- 
tured forth  found  them  well-nigh  impassable  owing 
to  this  mud,  which  clung  in  great  clods  to  their 
horses'  hoofs  and  made  each  step  a  labored  effort. 
Across  the  Straits  the  wind  drove  the  rain  in  blinding 
gusts,  and  at  noon  the  day  was  as  dark  as  the  twilight 
of  the  dry  months.  At  rare  intervals  there  would 
come  a  break  in  the  heavy  clouds,  and  then  the  sun 
would  shine  fiercely  through,  drawing  the  moisture 
from  earth  and  foliage  in  a  heavy  steam. 

The  streets  of  the  villages  were  by  no  means  de- 
serted because  of  the  downpour.  The  huge  bath  sup- 
plied by  nature  was  taken  advantage  of  by  scores  of 
sturdily-built  children,  who  ran  naked  about  the 
streets,  reveling  in  the  cool  shower  which  fell  upon 


ONE   CASUALTY 


their  black  heads  and  ran  in  rivulets  down  their  little 
bronze  bodies. 

The  days,  dark  and  gloomy,  were  fit  precursors 
of  the  black,  tempestuous  nights.  The  entire  ab- 
sence of  street  lights  and  the  thick  window-panes  in 
the  better  class  of  houses  made  the  towns  almost  as 
dark  as  the  country. 

At  about  eleven  o'clock  on  the  night  following  the 
events  recorded  in  the  last  chapter,  Lieutenant  Tay- 
lor marched  stealthily  out  of  Silay  at  the  head  of  a 
detachment  of  twenty-two  men,  and  took  the  road  to 
the  Paris  hacienda. 

The  night  was  so  dark  that  the  men,  who  plodded 
patiently  along  in  single  file,  could  not  see  five  feet 
in  advance.  The  road  was  long  and  heavy,  and  the 
errand  did  not  promise  to  be  very  successful.  Most 
of  the  men  had  been  on  more  than  one  similar  expe- 
dition, and,  while  they  did  not  know  their  objective 
point,  they  were  prepared  for  an  all-night  march  in 
the  rain,  no  fight,  and  no  breakfast. 

They  did  not  grumble,  however.  Occasionally  one 
of  them  would  miss  his  footing  and  fall  headlong  in 
the  soft  mud;  a  low  curse  would  be  heard,  followed 
by  a  laugh  at  the  man's  expense  from  his  comrades — 
a  laugh  in  which  he  joined,  usually,  as  he  picked  him- 
self up  and  struggled  bravely  onward. 

63 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

When  they  were  within  half  a  mile  of  their  des- 
tination Taylor  gave  the  command  to  halt  for  a  brief 
rest.  The  road  which  had  seemed  so  short  when 
ridden  over  in  the  moonlight  two  nights  before  had 
seemed  interminable  now.  The  men  threw  them- 
selves upon  the  ground,  for  their  clothes  were  so  wet 
that  they  would  have  sat  cheerfully  upon  the  bed  of 
a  stream.  In  the  darkness  it  was  impossible  for 
them  to  distinguish  each  other's  features.  The  four 
or  five  who  formed  the  rear-guard  huddled  together 
beneath  the  scant  shelter  afforded  by  a  dwarf  palm 
and  conversed  cheerfully  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Is  Sergeant  Cassidy  there  ? "  inquired  a  voice 
from  the  darkness. 

"  I  am  that.  Did  yez  iver  know  me  to  absint  me- 
self  from  th'  post  av  juty  ? " 

"  Gi'  me  a  chew  tobacco." 

Cassidy  thrust  his  wet  hand  into  his  wet  pocket 
and  drew  forth  a  wet  and  moldy  plug  of  tobacco. 
With  the  trusting  guilelessness  of  a  recruit  he  held 
it  forth  into  the  darkness.  It  was  seized  upon,  and 
before  it  was  restored  to  its  owner's  pocket  had  passed 
around  the  circle.  The  entire  rear-guard  was  pro- 
vided for.  They  chewed  silently,  and  expectorated 
freely  upon  each  other's  leggins  and  shoes  in  the 

darkness. 

64 


ONE    CASUALTY 


"  In  all  me  milit'ry  expeerience,"  said  Cassidy,  as 
he  wofully  felt  of  what  remained  of  his  plug,  "  I 
niver  knew  annything  so  damn  mean.  Why  can't 
you  fellows  bring  your  own  tobacco — do  yez  expect 
me  t'  supply  th'  hull  outfit? " 

"  Never  mind,  Sergeant ;  we'll  be  back  in  Silay  in 
the  morning." 

"  Will  we,  indeed,  now  ?  An',  do  ye  know,  some 
av  us  may  be  in  kingdom  come  by  th'  mornin'.  An' 
if  we're  not,  maybe  we  won't  be  in  Silay,  annyway. 
Take  my  advice,  and  never  lave  quarters  ag'in  with- 
out a  plug  av  tobacco.  Devil  a  bit  will  I  lend  in  the 
future." 

"  Oh,  me !  I  vish  I  vas  dead !  "  exclaimed  a 
voice. 

"  Who  iver  it  is  that  sed  that,  I  cuncur  in  th'  sinti- 
ment,"  rejoined  Cassidy.  "  Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  Me !  "  It  was  Redder  who  spoke,  and  he  was 
the  most  pessimistic  man  in  the  Silay  detachment. 

"  What's  th'  matter  wid  you  now  ?  " 

"  I'm  dired  of  all  dis  hikin'  aboud  de  coundry  in 
the  nighd  and  back  again  nexd  mornin'.  I  vish  I 
vas  home !  " 

"  Where  is  your  home — on  the  Bowery  ?  " 

A  low  chuckle  ran  around  the  circle  at  this  feeble 

sally.     The  greater  the  discomfort,  the  easier  these 
5  65 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

men  found  it  to  laugh  at  such  humor  as  was  forth- 
coming. The  man  from  the  mountains  of  Tennessee 
next  spoke  up.  "  Do  you  gentlemen  wanta  know 
wheah  weah  bound  f  oh  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Such  curiosity  on  th'  part  av  an  enlisted  man  is 
conduct  t'  th'  prejudis'  av  good  order  an'  milit'ry  dis- 
cipline," replied  Cassidy,  wiping  the  water  from  his 
face  and  trying  to  cover  the  chamber  of  his  rifle  with 
one  corner  of  his  rubber  poncho.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
say  the  lootenant  has  took  you  into  his  confidence  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  why  they  should  have  all  this  secrecy 
about  it,"  exclaimed  the  Third  Avenue  recruit,  fret- 
fully. He  was  just  learning  the  hard  side  of  war — 
the  side  which  does  more  to  make  character  than 
battles. 

"  You  don't,  eh  ?  "  said  the  Irishman.  "  Well,  I'll 
tell  you.  If  they  told  you,  you'd  tell  th'  lovely 
young  female  gurl  I  seen  you  talkin'  wid  this  morn- 
in',  an'  she'd  tell  th'  hull  town ;  so  that,  when  we  got 
there — wherever  it  is — there'd  be  no  naygurs  to 
fight." 

"  Dere  von't  be  none,  anyhow,"  said  Redder. 
"  Dere  neber  is  none." 

"  Shut  up,  Redder,"  replied  Cassidy.  "  For  an 
old  soldier,  you  make  me  tired.  Do  you  want  to  dis- 
courage us  ? " 


ONE    CASUALTY 


Sergeants  Cassidy  and  Redder  were  inseparable, 
and  were  always  at  odds — conversationally.  They 
often  shared  the  same  blanket  when  on  field  service, 
but  never  the  same  views  or  opinions  in  camp  or 
quarters.  They  had  begun  by  enlisting  together 
some  twelve  years  before,  and  had  served  together 
ever  since.  They  generally  received  their  discharges 
on  the  same  day,  made  sundry  remarks  to  the  deroga- 
tion of  the  army  as  a  profession,  and  declared  their 
intention  of  leaving  it  for  good.  At  the  end  of  three 
months  they  would  be  back  in  a  recruiting  office, 
anxious  to  be  sent  to  "  the  old  regiment."  Side  by 
side  they  had  gone  through  an  Indian  campaign,  the 
Spanish  war,  and  the  Philippine  unpleasantness. 

"  Ah  know  wheah  weah  goin',"  continued  the  man 
from  the  mountains  of  Tennessee.  "  Weah  just  goin' 
out  to  ole  Paris's  place.  Ah  heard  th'  ole  woman 
that's  washin'  fer  the  officers  tell  Everton  abaout  it." 

"  Everton's  a  gentleman  soldier,"  said  the  recruit 
sneeringly. 

"  An'  what  if  he  is,"  demanded  Cassidy  angrily. 
"  He's  more  av  a  soldier  in  wan  minit  than  you'll  be 
in  your  whole  life,  you  dirty  rookie,  you." 

The  recruit  made  no  reply,  but  sat  shivering  and 
nursing  his  resentment.  He  had  prepared  himself 
for  the  night's  work  with  whisky,  and  was  therefore 

67 


D4NIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

used  up  long  before  the  work  began.  His  devotion 
to  the  cigarette — a  delicacy  which  could  not  be  en- 
joyed in  his  present  circumstances — forbade  him  the 
solace  of  chewing  tobacco;  to  which,  in  its  proper 
time  and  place,  there  is  no  equal. 

The  rain  had  held  up  for  a  few  moments  and  now 
began  again.  As  the  first  heavy  drops  fell  upon  the 
hand  of  the  man  from  Tennessee  he  asked  in  an  ag- 
grieved tone,  "  Is  it  rainin'  again  ?  " 

"  Such  a  proseedure  on  th'  part  av  nature,"  said 
Cassidy,  who  was  addicted  to  a  somewhat  stilted  style 
of  speech,  "  would  not  in  th'  least  surprise  me." 

"  Id's  always  rainin',  Cassidy,  an'  you  know  id," 
said  Redder. 

"  You  make  me  tired !  "  responded  his  comrade. 
"  You  found  it  too  cold  in  Alaska,  an'  now  you  find 
it  too  hot  in  th'  Philippeenes.  Damn  me  if  I  don't 
think  you're  onraysonible." 

"  Oh,  the  Irish  an'  th'  Dutch, 
They  don't  amount  to  much !  " 

It  was  a  little  Yankee  from  somewhere  in  the  hills 
of  Vermont  who  recited  these  lines  in  a  sing-song 
voice.  It  had  a  dampening  effect  on  the  conversa- 
tion, and  before  it  could  be  resumed  Taylor's  voice 

68 


ONE    CASUALTT 


rang  out  sharply  in  the  command  to  move  forward. 
The  men  struggled  wearily  to  their  feet,  fell  in,  and 
resumed  the  march.  The  little  column  moved 
on  silently  and  turned  up  the  driveway  leading  to 
the  hacienda.  When  they  were  within  a  few  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  house  Taylor  stumbled  over  a  dog, 
which  was  sleeping  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  The 
cur  set  up  a  mournful  howl,  which  was  taken  up 
directly  by  a  score  of  others.  In  a  moment  the  whole 
canine  population  of  the  neighborhood  was  yelping 
excitedly. 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  hear  that  ? "  asked  Tay- 
lor, speaking  in  a  low  tone  to  Everton,  who  was 
marching  by  his  side. 

"  I  don't  think  so,  sir.  They  probably  won't  get 
down  here  before  half -past  one  or  two.  If  they  did 
hear  it,  they  wouldn't  necessarily  suspect  anything. 
These  dogs  bark  at  everything."  A  few  minutes 
later  they  arrived  at  the  house,  and  Taylor,  halting 
the  detachment,  made  a  hurried  survey  of  the  field. 

Two  roads  led  in  to  the  hacienda  from  up  country. 
The  one  to  the  north  was  the  one  which,  in  Taylor's 
estimation,  the  attacking  party  would  be  the  more 
apt  to  take.  Giving  the  order  to  fall  in  in  double 
ranks,  he  divided  his  force  into  two  parties  of  eleven 
men  each,  and  taking  one  of  these  placed  it  in  am- 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

bush,  behind  a  low  wall,  on  this  road.  From  their 
position  they  commanded  a  good  sweep  of  the  ap- 
proach for  about  fifty  yards.  Everton  took  the  other 
half  of  the  detachment  and  placed  them  in  a  similar 
ambuscade  on  the  other  road.  In  five  minutes  from 
the  time  they  reached  the  house  the  whole  force  was 
disposed  of  and  lay  waiting. 

The  hours  dragged  slowly  on,  and  there  was-  no 
sign  of  the  enemy.  The  rain  continued  to  fall  in  tor- 
Brents,  drenching  the  men,  who  lay  motionless,  their 
bodies  partly  under  water  in  the  ditch.  From  under 
their  rubber  ponchos  the  barrels  of  their  Krag-Jor- 
gensens  were  leveled  down  the  road.  The  strictest 
silence  was,  of  course,  enjoined,  and  the  only  relaxa- 
tion to  be  had  was  the  chewing  of  tobacco. 

Sergeants  Everton  and  Cassidy  lay  side  by  side, 
their  shoulders  touching,  and  the  rain  running  from 
the  brim  of  the  Irishman's  hat  onto  the  shoulder  of 
his  comrade.  Both  strained  their  eyes  into  the  dark- 
ness until  they  ached,  without  seeing  anything. 

At  last,  when  the  night  was  far  advanced,  and  they 
had  about  given  up  hope  of  having  even  a  shot  at 
the  enemy,  Cassidy  leaned  over  and,  placing  his  lips 
close  to  Everton's  ear,  whispered :  "  TheV  coomin' ! " 

"  How  do  you  know? "  The  question  was  put  in 
a  faint  whisper,  just  loud  enough  to  be  audible. 

70 


ONE    CASUALTY 


"  I  seen  wan  av  th'  butees  light  a  cigareet. 
They've  halted  about  three  hundred  yards  down  th' 
road  beyandt.  Ther'll  be  a  man  up  directly  to  ray- 
connoiter." 

"  Pass  the  word  to  lay  low  and  keep  quiet." 

"  I  will/'  murmured  Cassidy.  "  An'  a  foine 
state  av  affairs  in  th'  rigler  army  when  such  a 
caution  is  necessary ! "  he  muttered  under  his 
breath. 

It  was  now  nearly  three  o'clock,  and  the  night  was 
lighter.  There  was  a  moon  hidden  away  somewhere 
behind  the  heavy,  black  clouds,  and  as  their  dark 
masses  drifted  by  overhead,  driven  by  the  strong, 
southerly  wind,  a  sort  of  ghostly  twilight  filtered 
through  the  rifts.  In  one  of  these  moments  of  half 
light  Everton  discerned  a  solitary  horseman  riding 
slowly  toward  them.  It  was  Rigon. 

"  Here  comes  th'  brigadier-gineral  commandin'. 
I've  a  mind  t'  pot  him  now,  an'  make  sure.  He  may 
be  in  th'  rear  whin  th'  fun  begins,"  whispered  Cas- 
sidy, as  the  native  halted  within  a  few  feet  of  them 
and  leaned  forward  in  the  saddle,  peering  into  the 
darkness  toward  the  house.  He  was  happily  un- 
conscious of  the  ten  rifles  leveled  at  his  chest  and 
the  ten  strong  fingers  on  their  hair  triggers.  For 
some  time  he  sat  motionless,  looking  like  an  appari- 

71 


DANIEL    EFERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

tion  in  his  white  clothes;  then,  wheeling  about,  he 
disappeared  into  the  darkness. 

As  he  vanished  the  men  drew  a  sigh  of  relief.  The 
tension  of  the  silence  they  had  preserved  had  been 
severe.  The  recruit's  teeth  were  chattering  in  his 
head  from  cold  and  suppressed  excitement.  The 
hour  he  had  waited  for  so  long,  when  he  should  actu- 
ally smell  powder  in  action,  seemed  to  be  at  hand. 
In  his  heart  he  was  not  altogether  glad  that  he  had 
come. 

Everton  lay  motionless  as  a  statue,  straining  his 
eyes  down  the  road.  Cassidy  softly  turned  the  cut- 
off of  his  rifle  to  the  extreme  left,  ran  the  bolt  for- 
ward and  back  once,  to  assure  himself  that  it  was 
working  properly,  and  pushed  a  cartridge  into  the 
chamber.  Then  he  took  a  fresh  chew  of  tobacco  and 
waited.  In  the  darkness  his  eyes  sparkled. 

The  moments  which  followed  dragged  on  slowly, 
as  those  moments  do  which  come  just  before  the  first 
shots  of  an  engagement  are  fired.  The  night  con- 
tinued to  grow  lighter  and  the  rain  continued  to  fall ; 
not  with  the  wind-driven  fury  of  the  earlier  evening, 
but  with  a  steady,  persistent  downpour,  which  chilled 
the  recruit  to  the  bone  and  made  even  Cassidy  set 
his  teeth  a  trifle  closer  on  his  tobacco.  Suddenly 

the  queer  hoot  of  a  tree  lizard,  sharp  and  rasping, 

72 


ONE    CASUALTY 


broke  out  in  the  stillness,  and  from  far  off  on  the 
Silay  highroad  there  came  the  faint  barking  of 
a  dog. 

The  croaking  of  that  lizard  and  the  barking  of 
that  dog  were  sounds  which  lingered  in  Daniel  Ever- 
ton's  ears  long  afterwards.  They  remained  indelibly 
stamped  upon  his  memory  as  being  associated  with 
his  last  experience  as  a  soldier.  They  marked,  in- 
deed, the  ending  of  one  stage  of  his  life's  journey 
and  the  beginning  of  another. 

When  about  twenty  minutes  had  elapsed,  and  it 
seemed  to  the  recruit  that  he  could  bear  the  suspense 
no  longer,  he  moved  slightly  and  thrust  the  barrel 
of  his  rifle  forward.  As  he  was  moving  it,  with  his 
finger  upon  the  trigger  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
road,  several  figures  appeared  suddenly  from  out  of 
the  darkness,  their  wet,  white  clothes  giving  them 
the  air  of  very  much  bedraggled  specters  in  the  faint 
light  of  the  approaching  dawn. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  recruit  had  spent 
five  hours  expecting,  and  alternately  hoping  for  and 
dreading  the  coming  of  the  enemy,  and  that  he  had 
rehearsed  mentally  many  times  just  how  they  might 
be  expected  to  come,  and  what  he  would  do  when 
he  saw  them,  their  sudden  appearance  from  out  of 
the  darkness  of  the  night  was  too  much  for  his  over- 

73 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

wrought  nerves.  The  finger  which  pressed  the  trig- 
ger of  his  rifle  tightened  suddenly,  and  the  piece  was 
discharged  with  a  loud  report.  The  bullet  whizzed 
past  Cassidy's  ear  and  traveled  on  over  the  heads  of 
the  ladrones  toward  the  mountains. 

The  advancing  party  halted  in  confusion,  and 
Everton,  taking  advantage  of  their  panic,  gave  the 
command  to  fire.  A  volley  rang  out,  and  he  saw 
Eigon  and  two  others  fall  as  he  led  the  way  out  of 
the  ditch  and  charged  down  the  road. 

When  the  ladrones  realized  that  they  had  a  force 
and  not  an  individual  to  deal  with,  the  compact  group 
of  white-robed  figures  broke  suddenly  and  seemed 
to  dissolve  into  the  darkness,  as  its  members  scat- 
tered in  every  direction.  A  few  of  the  cooler  heads 
among  them  preserved  sufficient  of  their  presence 
of  mind  to  kneel  and  fire  a  shot  in  return.  All  of 
these  shots  went  wide  of  the  mark  but  one,  and  that 
one  passed  through  Everton's  chest  just  above  the 
heart.  He  toppled  over  into  the  mud  and  lay  there 
gasping. 

"  Cease  firing !  "  yelled  Cassidy  an  instant  later. 
"  What  in  hell  ar'  yez  shootin'  at? " 

The  shooting  ceased.  The  last  of  the  ladrones 
had  disappeared,  and  they  were  slinking  away  across 
the  paddy-fields  under  cover  of  the  darkness. 

74 


ONE    CASUALTT 


At  this  juncture  Lieutenant  Taylor  came  up  with 
his  men  to  reinforce  the  others.  Pursuit  of  the 
enemy  on  such  a  night  was  out  of  the  question,  so 
very  tenderly  they  picked  up  the  wounded  man  and 
carried  him  into  the  house.  There  was  a  minute 
hole  in  his  blue  shirt,  and  around  it  the  dull  red  stain 
was  deepening  momentarily. 

Just  as  the  day  was  breaking,  and  what  would 
have  been  a  glorious  sunrise  in  the  dry  season,  but 
was  only  a  dull,  gray  twilight  now,  was  bringing  into 
view  the  sodden  cane  fields,  beaten  and  trampled 
upon  by  the  rain  as  by  an  army,  the  door  of  Paris's 
room  opened  and  Dr.  Fairchild  came  out.  Taylor 
and  Paris  sat  in  the  great  hall,  the  khaki  uniform 
of  the  former  stained  with  the  mud  and  clay  in 
which  he  had  lain  the  greater  part  of  the  night. 
The  old  planter  was  attired  in  his  sleeping  garments, 
a  suit  of  white  pajamas,  which  seemed  to  differ  in 
no  way  from  the  ones  he  had  worn  at  dinner  two 
nights  before.  On  the  stand  in  front  of  them  were 
a  bottle  of  whisky  and  several  glasses.  The  doctor, 
whose  clothes  were,  like  those  of  his  friend,  wringing 
wet,  advanced  to  the  table,  and  pouring  out  a  stiff 
drink,  tossed  it  off.  Putting  the  glass  back  on  the 
table,  he  said  briefly :  "  He's  got  a  chance." 

75 


DANIEL    EYERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Taylor  in  reply,  his 
face  brightening.  "  It  looked  pretty  bad  to  me." 

"  It's  a  Mauser  wound  through  the  left  lung. 
Fortunate  for  him  that  it  wasn't  one  of  those  brass 
Remingtons.  If  it  had  been,  it  would  be  all  night 
with  him." 

"  I  suppose  he'll  have  to  stay  here  ?  " 

"  For  the  present,  certainly.  If  all  goes  well,  you 
might  move  him  in  to  quarters  in  a  week  or  so. 
Everything  depends  now  on  his  being  kept  quiet. 
I'll  stay  here  until  you  can  send  out  one  of  the  hos- 
pital men.  You'd  better  send  Brown." 

"  Well,  then,  I  think  we'll  start  back." 

"  Don't  be  in  any  hurry  about  Brown,"  said  Fair- 
child.  "  I  can  stay  here  until  evening.  I  think 
I'll  turn  in  now  and  get  some  sleep." 

While  Fairchild  had  been  dressing  Everton's 
wound,  as  well  as  that  of  the  only  wounded  enemy 
who  had  fallen,  Paris  had  provided  the  men  with 
a  comfortable  breakfast;  so  that  when  they  fell  in, 
in  response  to  Taylor's  command,  and  resumed  the 
march  back  to  Silay,  they  looked  upon  life  from  the 
standpoint  of  a  full  stomach.  They  conversed  cheer- 
fully as  they  plodded  back  through  the  thick  mud. 

"  If  'twasn't  fer  losin'  Everton,"  said  Cassidy,  as 

he  readjusted  his  gun-sling  so  as  to  throw  his  rifle 

76 


ONE   CASUALTY 


across  his  broad  back,  "  I'd  be  well  satisfied  with  th' 
raysult  av  th'  night's  wurk.  Four  dead  naygurs, 
wan  av  which  is  a  captain-gineral,  iv'ry  night,  wud 
soon  impriss  upon  th'  oncivilized  inhabitants  th' 
determination  av  th'  United  States  t'  befrind  thim." 

"  I  hopes  ve  don'd  lose  Everdon,"  said  Kedder. 

"  An'  so  do  I ;  but  if  we  shud — so  be  it.  As  th' 
great  JSTavpoleon  sez,  '  ye  can't  hav'  ham  omelets 
without  breakin'  eggs  an'  killin'  pork.  Speakin'  av 
pork,  I've  a  word  to  say  t'  th'  rookie  who  fired  off 
his  gun  without  bein'  toldt  to,  an'  so  sp'iled  wan  of 
th'  decissive  battles  av  hist'ry — th'  'leventh,  I  believe 
it  wud  have  bin." 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,"  said  the  Third  Avenue  re- 
cruit, sulkily.  "  I  had  my  hand  on  the  trigger,  and 
it  went  off  accidentally." 

"  He  didn't  know  it  war  loaded,"  explained  the 
man  from  Tennessee. 

"  Well,  th'  nixt  time  you  want  t'  have  wan  av 
thim  accidents,"  continued  Cassidy,  "  I  ricommind, 
in  th'  interests  av  th'  servis,  that  you  have  th'  muzzle 
ag'in  your  own  chist  and  not  ag'in  my  ear." 

"  I  didn't  know  it  was  near  your  ear,"  said  the 
recruit  in  a  choking  voice,  for  he  was  on  the  verge 
of  tears. 

"Didn't  you  indade,  now?    Well,  th'  conscious- 
77 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

niss  av'  your  good  intintions  mid  be  very  comfortin' 
t'  th'  families  av  anny  wan  af  us  what  happens  t' 
be  made  a  corpse  av  be  your  ignorance  as  t'  where 
yer  gun's  p'intin'  at.  But  always  raymimbir  thot 
nixt  t'  salutin'  an  officer,  there's  nothin'  so  important 
as  not  shoo  tin'  yer  own  min." 

The  ball  of  ridicule,  set  rolling  by  the  good- 
humored  Cassidy,  was  kept  in  motion  by  the  other 
men,  so  that  before  they  reached  Silay  the  recruit, 
whose  lack  of  discipline  had  spoiled  the  chance  of 
a  possible  fight,  was  on  the  verge  of  suicide.  He  had 
in  him  the  making  of  a  good  soldier,  but  the  making 
of  a  soldier  out  of  such  raw  material  is  never  a  gentle 
process. 

78 


Chapter  VI 
MARSHALL  EVERTON   RECEIVES  A  CALL 

an  oppressively  hot  evening  in  Septem- 
ber, three  months  after  the  skirmish  with 
Rigon's  band  at  the  Paris  hacienda,  an  old 
man  walked  slowly  up  Madison  Avenue,  his  head 
bowed  and  his  eyes  on  the  pavement  at  his  feet. 
He  was  dressed  with  great  care,  a  fact  which  made 
it  apparent  to  the  observing  passersby  that  he  had 
not  lacked  assistance  in  making  his  toilet.  Men  of 
forty  may  preserve  an  immaculate  exterior  without 
the  aid  of  a  valet,  but  when  one  who  is  close  upon 
seventy  is  found  as  scrupulously  garbed  as  his  grand- 
sons, it  usually  indicates  that  the  services  of  that 
useful  domestic  have  not  been  dispensed  with. 

The  city  seemed  the  hotter  for  the  hush  which 
had  fallen  upon  it  with  the  close  of  day.  During 
the  busy  hours,  with  the  rush  and  turmoil  of  traffic, 
there  had  been  in  its  active,  aggressive  life  some- 
thing to  distract  him  from  the  heat  of  day ;  but  now 
that  the  comparative  quiet  of  evening  had  fallen 

79 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

upon  the  broad  avenues  with  their  rows  of  deserted 
residences,  the  old  man  became  painfully  conscious 
of  a  weakness  and  lassitude. 

He  was  occupied  with  his  own  reflections,  and  if 
his  face  was  in  any  way  indicative  of  them,  they 
must  have  been  far  from  agreeable.  He  was  clean- 
shaven, and  the  refined  lips  were  compressed  tightly. 
It  was  the  mouth  of  a  weak  man,  who  was  aware 
of  his  own  weakness  and  desirous  of  combating  it. 

He  walked  with  the  persistent,  jerky  step  pecu- 
liar to  old  men,  who  think  that  unless  they  do  their 
five  or  six  miles  each  day  they  will  lose  forever 
their  hold  upon  youth  and  vitality  and  fall  into  a 
decline;  by  this  means  not  infrequently  hastening 
the  very  decline  they  seek  to  avoid. 

As  he  passed  one  of  the  side  streets  he  was  run 
into  and  nearly  overturned  by  a  small  urchin,  flee- 
ing madly  down  the  avenue,  shrieking  out  the  details 
of  an  unusually  revolting  murder.  Under  the  little 
gamin's  arm  were  several  crumpled  copies  of  one  of 
those  daily  journals  which  are  as  soiled,  morally,  on 
leaving  the  press  as  they  are  materially  after  they 
have  passed  through  half-a-dozen  pairs  of  unwashed 
hands.  The  vendor  was  endowed  with  a  deep  and 
penetrating  voice,  with  which  he  summed  up  the 

ghastly  details  of  the  affair,  indicating  that  for  the 

80 


MARSHALL  EPERTON  RECEIVES  A  CALL 

moderate  price  of  a  penny  the  respectable  looking 
old  man  could  have  all  the  details  of  the  horror,  to 
take  home  and  enjoy  at  his  leisure. 

It  was  a  small  body,  but  it  had  been  impelled  with 
considerable  force,  and  as  the  arab  disentangled 
himself  and  pursued  his  wild  course  down  town,  in 
search  of  a  purchaser  for  his  sensation,  the  old  man, 
overcome  with  the  heat  and  shock,  stood  trembling 
and  looking  up  at  the  houses.  Their  unfamiliar 
aspect  caused  him  to  wipe  his  glasses  and  mutter 
to  himself,  "  Dear  me !  Dear  me !  I  must  have 
passed  the  house."  Turning,  he  retraced  his  steps 
for  two  blocks,  and  then  ascended  the  steps  of  a 
brownstone  dwelling.  Feeling  for  his  keys,  only  to 
find  that  he  had  left  them  in  his  office,  he  rang  the 
bell. 

The  summons  was  answered  so  quickly  as  to  in- 
dicate that  the  portly,  middle-aged  butler  who  opened 
the  door  had  been  anxiously  awaiting  his  master's 
return. 

"  You  seem  tired,  Mr.  Everton,"  he  said.  "  I 
am  afraid  you  have  walked  too  far." 

"Eh?  Yes,  John;  what  is  it?"  replied  the  old 
man  querulously. 

"  I  said  that  dinner  is  ready  when  you  care  to 

have  it  served,  sir,"  replied  John,  who  saw  no  good 
6  81 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

in  carrying  veracity  too  far  on  some  occasions.  He 
took  the  hat  and  stick,  placed  them  upon  the  hat- 
rack,  and  quickly  brought  forward  a  small  salver, 
on  which  was  a  glass  of  brandy  beaten  up  with  an 


"  Drink  this,  sir,"  he  said,  in  the  half  respectful, 
half  authoritative  manner  which  those  who  have  the 
care  of  the  aged  adopt.  "  It  will  do  you  good." 

"  Thank  you,  John,"  said  Mr.  Everton.  "  You 
are  very  thoughtful." 

Upon  entering  the  next  room,  which  was  used  as 
a  study,  he  found  a  student  lamp  burning  brightly 
upon  the  table,  and  beside  it  a  copy  of  the  "  Evening 
Post."  He  sank  into  the  big  arm-chair  by  the  table 
and  lay  back  as  though  exhausted. 

John  stood  beside  him  for  some  minutes,  until  the 
stimulant  began  to  take  effect.  By  degrees  Mr. 
Everton's  breathing  lost  its  irregular,  exhausted 
character,  and  the  color  came  back  into  the  refined, 
pallid  face,  on  which  the  perspiration  stood  out 
prominently. 

"  Well,  John  ? "  he  inquired  at  length,  noticing 
that  the  servant  was  still  in  the  room.  "  What  do 
you  want  ? " 

"  Two  ladies  called  to  see  you  this  afternoon, 


MARSHALL   EVERTON  RECEIVES   A   CALL 

"  Two  ladies — to  see  me  ?  "  repeated  the  old  man 
incredulously. 

"  Yes,  sir.     Mrs.  Cartwright  and  Miss  Fairchild." 

"  Did  they  leave  any  message  ? "  Mr.  Everton 
continued,  after  a  pause  of  some  duration — an  in- 
terval which  he  had  employed  in  thought  and  in 
drumming  with  his  thin,  white  hands  upon  the  arm 
of  his  chair. 

"  Yes,  sir.  They  said  they  were  passing  through 
town  and  would  call  again  this  evening.  Miss  Fair- 
child  said  she  hoped  you  were  well,  and  that  she 
wished  to  see  you  about  something  very  particular. 
I  told  them  you  were  nearly  always  at  home  in  the 
evenings,  sir." 

While  John  was  speaking,  Mr.  Everton  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  and  stared  vacantly,  straight  in 
front  of  him.  There  was  a  half -frightened  look  on 
the  old  man's  face,  which  the  fact  that  a  very  attract- 
ive young  woman  wished  to  see  him  seemed  hardly 
to  justify.  Finally  he  glanced  up  at  the  mantel,  and 
his  eyes  fell  upon  the  clock,  which  was  ticking  nois- 
ily. Its  hands  pointed  to  a  quarter  before  eight. 
John  followed  his  master's  gaze. 

"  Shall  I  serve  dinner  at  once  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I  shall  only  require  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  piece  of 
dry  toast,"  replied  Mr.  Everton,  who  had  read  some- 

83 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

where  that  exercise  and  a  light  diet  would  prolong 
life. 

John's  face  clouded.  His  efforts  to  keep  body 
and  soul  together  in  the  old  man  were  arduous.  "  I 
have  a  small  filet  for  you,  sir,  and  a  clear  soup,"  he 
said,  with  the  air  of  one  imparting  in  confidence  a 
secret  of  state,  as  he  advanced  to  the  side  of  his  mas- 
ter's chair.  "  Do  try  to  eat  a  little  of  it,  sir." 

"  It  will  distress  me  if  I  do,"  replied  the  old  man, 
decisively.  "  No;  I  think  just  the  tea  and  toast, 
John;  just  the  tea  and  toast." 

The  servant  now  had  recourse  to  a  strategy,  as 
had  often  been  necessary  before.  "  You  see,  sir," 
he  said  in  an  insinuating  tone,  "  the  servants  has 
begun  to  talk  about  your  not  eatin'  enough  to  keep 
a  bird  alive — that's  how  the  cook  puts  it.  And  if 
they  was  to  talk  like  that  outside,  I'm  afraid  people 
might  think  your  health  was  a  failin',  sir." 

The  ruse  was  successful,  for  he  had  touched  his 
master  on  his  most  sensitive  point.  If  there  was 
anything  the  old  man  dreaded  it  was  that  his  neigh- 
bors should  suspect  that  advance  of  old  age  which 
he  was  not  willing  to  admit  to  himself.  This 
thought,  combined  with  the  stimulant  he  had  taken, 
caused  him  to  pull  himself  together  and  rise  to  his 

feet. 

84 


MARSHALL    EfERTON   RECEIVES   A   CALL 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  John,"  he  said  briskly, 
rubbing  his  hands  together — those  hands  which  were 
always  cold,  no  matter  what  the  heat  of  the  day. 
"  I  am  apt  to  forget  about  eating;  but  my  appetite 
is  as  healthy  as  ever,  John — as  healthy  as  ever." 

"  Of  course,  sir,"  assented  the  delighted  servant. 
"  Will  you  sit  down  now  ?  " 

The  master  sought  the  dining-room  with  the  same 
determined  step  with  which  he  had  walked  all  the 
way  from  his  office,  and  ate  his  soup  with  trembling 
hands.  As  the  meal  progressed,  John  saw  that  his 
glass  was  kept  full  of  a  rich  port,  and  by  deft  little 
maneuvers  managed  to  make  him  eat  a  fairly  good 
meal. 

When  it  was  over,  Mr.  Everton  withdrew  to  the 
study  once  more  and  resumed  his  arm-chair.  John 
brought  in  the  coffee,  and  unfolded  the  paper,  as 
though  to  remind  the  old  man  of  his  accustomed 
evening  occupation.  He  hesitated  when  he  had  done 
these  things,  waiting  a  chance  to  speak. 

"  Well,  John ;  what  is  it  ? "  inquired  the  old  man, 
more  genially  than  he  had  spoken  before  dinner. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir;  I  only  wanted  to  ask  whether 
you  have  heard  anything  more  from  Mr.  Daniel  ? " 
There  was  an  anxiety  and  affection  in  the  speaker's 
voice  as  he  half  timidly  made  the  inquiry. 

85 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  No;  not  since  the  doctor  cabled  that  he  was  out 
of  danger  from  his  wound,  but  ill  with  fever." 

"  He'll  be  coming  home  when  he's  well,  I  suppose, 
sir?" 

"  God  knows." 

The  old  servant  started  at  this  somewhat  remark- 
able reply,  and  looked  at  Mr.  Everton  anxiously. 
He  spoke  again,  but  as  the  words  left  his  lips  they 
were  drowned  in  a  loud  ring  at  the  door-bell. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Everton,  startled,  and 
trembling  visibly. 

"  The  ladies,  come  back — no  doubt.  Shall  I  show 
them  in,  sir  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes ;  of  course.     I  had  forgotten." 

John  left  the  room,  and  a  moment  later  drew  aside 
the  portieres  and  announced  Mrs.  Cartwright  and 
Miss  Fairchild. 

As  the  latter  advanced  to  Mr.  Everton  and  held 
out  her  hand,  the  soft  light  from  the  student  lamp 
fell  upon  a  graceful  form,  just  above  the  average 
height,  and  upon  a  face  which  can  best  be  described 
as  exceptional.  The  eyes  were  exceptionally  large, 
and  there  was  a  soft  depth  to  them  which,  if  the 
eyes  are  in  very  truth  the  windows  of  the  soul,  gave 
one  the  impression  that  the  soul  itself  was  excep- 
tional. The  lips  were  parted  in  a  slight  smile — one 


MARSHALL    EPERTON   RECEIVES    A    CALL 

of  those  involuntary  smiles  which  have  nothing 
forced  about  them,  and  which  gently  but  irresistibly 
demand  a  smile  in  return.  Her  forehead  was  high, 
and  the  upper  part  of  her  face  suggested  thought, 
as  the  lower  did  feeling.  Around  the  smooth,  white 
surface  the  hair  grew  prettily.  It  was  of  a  brown 
which  in  certain  lights  becomes  golden  and  again 
almost  red. 

She  was  very  handsome,  with  the  beauty  of  char- 
acter, and  yet  there  was  none  of  the  regularity  of 
feature  which  constitutes  the  conventional  type  of 
beauty  from  an  artist's  standpoint. 

If  one  met  her  he  would  retain — and  sometimes 
retain  for  a  very  long  time — the  impression  that  she 
was  beautiful,  and  yet  if  he  had  seen  her  photograph 
he  would  have  passed  it  by  unnoticed.  The  greatest 
beauties  of  the  human  face  are  only  perceptible  to 
the  human  eye.  The  cold  eye  of  the  camera  fails 
to  record  them. 

Mr.  Everton  bowed  over  her  hand  with  a  grave 
courtesy.  "  I  am  sorry  to  have  put  you  to  the  in- 
convenience of  a  second  call,"  he  said.  "  If  you 
had  left  word  where  you  were  stopping  —  I 
should " 

"  It  is  no  trouble,"  she  replied,  interrupting  him, 
it  being  one  of  the  very  rare  cases  in  which  an 

87 


DANIEL    EYERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

interruption  is  civil  rather  than  rude.  "  Let  me 
present  you  to  my  cousin,  Mrs.  Cartwright.  Laura, 
this  is  Mr.  Everton,  my  trustee." 

Miss  Fairchild's  eyes  were  upon  the  other  woman 
as  she  spoke,  so  that  she  failed  to  notice  the  little 
spasm  which  passed  over  Mr.  Everton' s  face  at  the 
mention  of  the  word  "  trustee."  By  the  time  they 
were  seated  it  had  passed.  He  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  and  clasped  his  hands  together. 

"  It  is  early  for  you  to  be  in  town,"  he  said  at 
length,  after  waiting  a  moment  for  his  visitors  to 
begin  the  conversation. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Constance,  drawing  off  her  glove 
and  adjusting  one  of  her  rings.  "  But  we  are  here 
for  the  day  only.  I  wanted  to  see  you  on  a  matter 
of  some  importance,  and  Mrs.  Cartwright  wanted  to 
do  some  shopping." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  at  any  time,"  replied  Mr. 
Everton,  clasping  his  thin  hands  a  little  tighter  to- 
gether and  compressing  his  lips  firmly,  as  though 
dreading  the  fall  of  some  sword  of  Damocles. 
"What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

Miss  Fairchild  gave  him  a  glimpse  of  her  fine 
white  teeth  in  a  merry  little  laugh.  "  Something 
that  will  surprise  you,"  she  said.  "  So  be  prepared 
for  a  shock." 

88 


I  am  sorry  to  have  put  you  to 
the  inconvenience  of  a  second 
call,"  he  said 


MARSHALL    EVERTON  RECEIVES   A   CALL 

Mr.  Everton  was  relieved,  and  smiled  in  return. 
There  could  be  no  sword  of  Damocles  in  what  she 
was  about  to  say,  since  she  could  laugh  at  the  thought 
of  it 

"  I  am  all  impatience,"  he  observed.  "  What  is 
it?" 

"  I  want  to  go  to  the  Philippines,"  replied  Con- 
stance. 

Mr.  Everton  was  dumfounded.  If  his  attractive 
young  ward  had  announced  her  intention  of  taking 
an  outing  in  the  wilds  of  Thibet  he  could  not  have 
been  more  so.  To  him  the  Philippines  were  a  group 
of  islands  swimming  in  blood  and  overrun  by  war. 
The  inhabitants  were  savages,  and  the  climate  was 
deadly  to  all  but  the  aforesaid  savages.  He  had  a 
son  out  there,  and  that  son  had  recently  been 
wounded  nigh  unto  death.  That  his  ward  should 
contemplate  exposing  her  fair  young  person  to  a 
similar  fate  was  inexplicable  to  him. 

"  To  the  Philippines !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  replied  his  ward.  "  Why  not  ? 
Mrs.  Cartwright  is  going  out  to  join  her  husband, 
a  major  in  the  Sixth  Artillery,  and  I  have  had  a 
letter  from  Dick,  saying  that  he  is  ordered  to  the 
Second  Reserve  hospital.  Mrs.  Cartwright  will  have 
a  house  in  Manila,  so  I  shall  be  taken  care  of." 

89 


DANIEL    E7ERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  But  is  it  safe  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Everton,  dubiously. 

Up  to  this  time  Mrs.  Major  Cartwright,  as  she  was 
known  to  the  inhabitants  of  various  military  posts 
she  had  commanded,  had  taken  no  part  in  the  con- 
versation. This  was  in  no  way  due  to  any  natural 
diffidence,  but  rather  to  her  loss  of  breath.  Like  a 
veteran  campaigner,  she  had  husbanded  all  her  re- 
sources for  the  time  when  she  should  begin  to  talk. 
This  time  had  now  come. 

"  Safe  ?  My  dear  Mr.  Everton !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Why,  of  course  it  is,  and  has  been  for  months. 
There  are  any  amount  of  American  ladies  in  Manila. 
The  colonel  (Major  Cartwright  was  a  lieutenant- 
colonel  by  brevet  only)  has  been  writing  to  me  by 
every  mail,  urging  me  to  join  him." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  her  husband's  anxiety — if  he 
felt  any — to  have  his  wife  join  him  had  been  care- 
fully concealed.  Most  of  the  anxiety  had  been  on 
Mrs.  Cartwright's  side,  and  she  had  finally  wrung 
from  him  a  consent  to  her  coming  out  with  her 
daughter,  and  a  reluctant  admission  that  "  it  was 
safe  enough,  and  had  been  all  along,  for  that  matter." 

As  the  major  had  written  those  words,  he  had 
wished  vaguely  that  the  town  might  be  attacked,  or 
the  plague  break  out,  or  something  happen  to  keep 
back  the  autocratic  wife,  whom  he  foresaw  was  soon 

90 


MARSHALL    EfERTON  RECEIVES   A   CALL 

to  come  out  and  put  an  end  to  the  first  period  of  rest 
he  had  known  for  ten  years.  The  sound  of  volley 
firing  "  out  on  the  lines  "  had  grown  fainter,  as  the 
insurgent  force  had  retreated  farther  and  farther  up 
country,  and  had  finally  died  away,  but  the  over- 
powering voice  of  Mrs.  Cartwright  was  clamoring 
to  be  heard,  and  the  hour  of  submission  was  at  hand. 
So  he  had  sent  the  letter,  and  was  even  now  enjoying 
the  last  days  of  his  freedom. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Everton,"  continued  Constance, 
"  the  fighting  has  all  taken  place  outside  of  Manila. 
It's  quite  safe  in  the  town  itself." 

"  There  was  a  battle  in  Manila  last  February," 
persisted  the  old  man.  He  was  unused  to  war,  and 
the  advisability  of  a  woman's  going  in  September  to 
a  city  which  had  been  a  scene  of  a  battle  in  February 
was  by  no  means  evident  to  his  mind. 

"  The  first  outbreak,  of  course,"  rejoined  Mrs. 
Cartwright.  "  But  the  enemy  were  driven  out  then 
and  have  never  been  back  since." 

"  I  should  consider  the  hostilities  now  in  progress 
in  the  Philippines  an  objectionable  feature — espe- 
cially for  ladies  traveling  alone." 

"  We  do  not  propose  to  travel  about  the  country, 
and  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Everton,  the  town  is  quite  safe. 

Colonel  Cartwright  would  not  think  of  exposing  me 

91 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

to  any  danger.  You  may  make  your  mind  quite 
easy  on  that  score." 

"  But  the  climate — "  Mr.  Everton  protested, 
thinking  of  the  cyclones  which  lift  up  great  ships 
and  carry  them  miles  inland,  and  also  of  the  plague 
and  kindred  disorders. 

"  Much  better  than  it  is  represented,"  affirmed 
Mrs.  Cartwright,  who  had  never  been  there.  "  Quite 
enjoyable  in  the  right  season — or  at  least  so  I  am 
informed." 

"  Is  this  the  right  season  ?  " 

"  The  rains,"  observed  Mrs.  Cartwright,  who  had 
been  reading  up  on  the  Philippines,  "  begin  some 
time  between  April  and  July  and  last  until  December 
or  January;  then  the  dry  season  begins." 

Constance  counted  on  her  fingers  and  broke  in 
upon  the  conversation.  "  I  don't  believe  it's  as  bad 
as  that,  Cousin  Laura;  if  it  is,  the  mud  has  hardly 
time  to  dry." 

Mr.  Everton  smiled  at  this.  It  amused  him  to 
see  how  the  younger  woman  had  dropped  out  of  the 
discussion  as  Mrs.  Cartwright  entered  the  lists.  He 
looked  at  the  well-poised  girl  before  him  and  made 
up  his  mind  that  if  she  had  decided  to  go  to  the 
Philippines  it  was  probably  not  an  unwise  thing  to 

do.     Then  he  looked  at  Mrs.  Cartwright,  who  was 

92 


MARSHALL    E7ERTON  RECEIVES   A   CALL 

fat,  fifty,  and  aggressive,  and  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  if  there  were  comforts  to  be  had  in  Manila 
she  would  have  them.  Altogether,  he  thought,  the 
two  women  were  not  illy  adapted  to  be  companions 
on  a  journey  to  a  distant,  half-civilized  land.  Then 
a  new  difficulty  presented  itself  to  his  f  arseeing,  legal 
mind. 

"  Major  Cartwright  may  have  to  remain  out  there 
a  number  of  years,"  he  said.  "  In  that  case,  how 
will  you  get  home  ?  " 

"  I  had  thought  of  that,  of  course,"  replied  Con- 
stance. "  You  see,  my  brother's  contract  expires  in 
five  months  and  he  will  not  renew  it.  When  he 
wrote,  suggesting  that  I  come  out,  he  said  that  he 
would  bring  me  home  through  India,  to  Europe,  in 
the  spring." 

"  You  see  how  beautifully  Constance  has  arranged 
it  all,"  said  Mrs.  Cartwright.  "Do  give  your  consent, 
Mr.  Everton.  There  are  already  many  American 
women  in  Manila,  and  I  assure  you  it's  quite  safe." 

"  It  is  not  a  case  in  which  my  consent  is  necessary, 
Mrs.  Cartwright,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  not  Miss  Fair- 
child's  guardian,  but  merely  her  trustee.  She  is  at 
liberty  to  do  as  she  wishes  in  all  matters.  I  merely 
have  the  honor  of  supplying  her  with  funds  from 

time  to  time." 

93 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Does  that  mean  that  you  would  refuse  your  con- 
sent if  it  was  necessary  ?  "  inquired  Constance,  with 
a  pretty,  defiant  toss  of  her  head. 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Mr.  Everton,  smiling.  "  I 
confess  that  of  late  I  have  not  followed  the  progress 
of  events  in  the  Philippines  very  closely.  However, 
since  you  have,  and  are  not  afraid  to  go,  I  have  noth- 
ing to  say." 

There  was  a  short  pause  in  the  conversation,  dur- 
ing which  Constance  examined  one  of  the  rings  on 
her  hand  critically.  She  was  thinking  over  what 
she  wished  to  say.  After  a  moment's  consideration 
she  inquired:  "  Speaking  of  the  Philippines;  what 
do  you  hear  from  your  son  ?  " 

"  From  Daniel  ?  Nothing  of  late.  You  know  he 
was  very  dangerously  wounded  about  three  months 
ago.  When  last  I  heard  he  was  out  of  danger. 
That  was  three  weeks  ago." 

Constance  was  sitting  with  her  face  to  the  student 
lamp.  When  Mr.  Everton  referred  to  his  son  hav- 
ing been  wounded,  the  hand  which  was  playing  with 
the  ring  went  up  as  though  to  shade  the  soft,  brown 
eyes  from  the  light.  It  was  a  simple  gesture,  which 
did  not  convey  any  meaning  to  the  old  man  or  to 
Mrs.  Cartwright.  She  covered  her  eyes  for  the  frac- 
tion of  a  minute,  and  then  the  hand  strayed  off  to 

94 


MARSHALL    EVERTON  RECEIVES   A   CALL 

a  rebellious  lock  of  brown  hair  over  the  small  ear, 
smoothed  and  arranged  it.  When  it  was  quite  in 
place  she  said,  quietly  and  simply : 

"  I  did  not  know  it — and — I  am  very,  very 
sorry." 

Mrs.  Cartwright  was  more  profuse  in  her  expres- 
sions of  sympathy.  "  I  can  feel  for  you,  dear  Mr. 
Everton,"  she  said.  "  We,  of  the  army,  know  how 
hard  such  things  are  to  bear.  It  is  a  sad  thing,  this 
war." 

"  I  am  not  of  the  army,"  replied  Mr.  Everton 
simply;  "  but  it  has  been  hard  for  me." 

Constance  looked  at  the  old  man,  with  eyes  that  did 
not  see  quite  clearly.  The  extreme  loneliness  and 
sadness  of  his  lot  became  apparent  to  her,  and  she 
wished  that  she  had  violated  the  proprieties  by 
leaving  Mrs.  Cartwright  behind  at  the  hotel.  She 
would  have  liked  to  say  more,  but  could  not  trust 
her  voice. 

"  You  say  it  is  three  months  since  your  son  was 
hurt  ?  "  the  older  woman  continued.  "  Men  usually 
recover  from  wounds  in  less  time  than  that — unless 
the  wounds  are  mortal." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  assented  Mr.  Everton;  "  but  he  has 
had  a  fever." 

"  You  must  forgive  me  for  speaking  so  lightly  of 
95 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

my  own  plans  when  you  have  such  a  terrible  sorrow 
on  your  mind,"  said  Constance. 

He  waved  his  hand  with  a  gesture  of  courteous 
depreciation.  "  It  is  an  old  story  to  me  now,"  he 
said.  "  I  was  not  aware  that  you  knew  Daniel." 

"  I  met  him  two  years  ago  in  Eome." 

"  I  hope  you  will  see  him  if  you  go  out  to  the 
Philippines." 

"  I  trust  so — if  he  is  in  Manila,"  replied  Con- 
stance. 

"  He  is  out  a  short  distance  from  there,  on  the 
island  of  ISTegros."  Mr.  Everton  had  very  carefully 
looked  up  the  island  in  question,  in  the  atlas,  and 
had  ascertained  that  it  was  the  same  distance  from 
Manila  that  Bangor,  Maine,  is  from  New  York,  and 
based  his  observation  on  this  knowledge,  not  con- 
sidering that  the  transportation  facilities  were  of  a 
different  order. 

"  He  will  receive  his  discharge  as  soon  as  he  re- 
covers," he  added. 

"  His  discharge !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cartwright  in 
amazement.  "  Do  you  mean  that  he  is  an  enlisted 
man?" 

"  He  is  a  sergeant.  He  was  in  Cuba,  and  was 
promoted  afterward." 

Mrs.  Cartwright  had  been  too  long  the  wife  of  an 
96 


MARSHALL   EVERTON  RECEIVES   A    CALL 

army  officer  not  to  feel  surprised  at  this  information. 
She  concealed  her  curiosity,  however,  and  merely 
asked :  "  How  did  he  happen  to  go  into  the  ranks  ?  " 

"  He  preferred  to,"  replied  Mr.  Everton.  "  He 
said  he  had  no  military  knowledge  and  did  not  want 
a  commission.  He  could  have  gotten  one  easily 
enough." 

"  Well,  I  should  hope  so.  So  he  is  what  we  call 
a  Volunteer-Regular  ? " 

"  What  is  that,  Cousin  Laura  ? "  inquired  Miss 
Fairchild. 

"  Just  what  it  says,  my  dear.  A  soldier  who  vol- 
unteered for  the  war,  but  enlisted  in  the  regular 
army." 

"  Ah,  yes;  I  see,"  responded  Constance,  buttoning 
her  glove.  She  did  not  wish  to  ask  any  more  ques- 
tions, being  aware  that  Mrs.  Cartwright  was  quick 
at  making  inferences.  So  quick,  in  fact,  that  they 
were  usually  erroneous  when  made.  "  Shall  we  go 
now  ?  "  she  suggested,  rising.  Mrs.  Cartwright  fol- 
lowed her  example,  as  did  Mr.  Everton,  and  Con- 
stance noticed,  with  a  little  pang,  that  as  the  latter 
arose  he  was  obliged  to  steady  himself  for  a  moment 
against  his  chair.  He  looked  very  old  and  weak. 

"  I  will  come  and  see  you  at  your  office,  Mr.  Ever- 
ton," she  said,  holding  out  her  hand,  over  which  he 
7  97 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

again  bowed  with  a  half -timid  grace,  "  to  arrange 
about  funds  for  my  trip.  I  am  glad  you  do  not  en- 
tirely disapprove  of  it." 

"  You  are  your  own  mistress,  of  course,"  re- 
sponded her  trustee,  with  a  smile,  "  and  a  very 
capable  one,  too — eh,  Mrs.  Cartwright?  " 

"  She  certainly  is,"  replied  the  older  woman  ab- 
sently, disentangling  the  bead  trimming  of  her  gown, 
which  had  caught  in  her  chair  as  she  arose.  "  I  only 
wish  my  girl  was  as  much  so." 

"  Well,  good-by  for  the  present,"  said  Constance, 
turning  to  go.  Then,  stopping,  she  added,  as  though 
the  idea  had  just  come  to  her,  "  If  you  have  news 
of  your  son  at  any  time,  I  would  be  glad  to  have  you 
drop  me  a  line  and  tell  me  of  it.  We  became  great 
friends  that  winter  in  Rome." 

"  You  are  very  kind." 

John  stood  for  several  minutes  in  the  open  door- 
way, watching  the  cab  drive  away  down  the  deserted 
street  and  listening  to  the  muffled  sound  of  the  horse's 
hoofs  upon  the  asphalt.  Then  he  closed  the  door 
softly  and  glanced  into  the  study.  Mr.  Everton  was 
sitting  by  the  student  lamp,  his  body  bent  and  his  thin, 
haggard  face  turned  toward  the  window.  He  pre- 
sented a  pitiable  picture  of  lonely  old  age,  and  the 
•  98 


MARSHALL    EfERTON  RECEIVES   A   CALL 

servant  regarded  him  with  anxiety  and  affection. 
"  Something's  gone  wrong,"  he  muttered,  as  he  with- 
drew to  the  dining-room,  there  to  wait  until  Mr. 
Everton  should  be  ready  to  retire.  "  Has  been 
wrong  for  some  time  back.  Mr.  Daniel  had  ought 
to  come  home." 


Chapter  VII 
A  BREACH  OF  TRUST 

of  the  best  evidences  of  the  insignificant 
parts  most  men  play  in  the  drama  of  their 
generation  lies  in  the  brevity  with  which 
their  life  histories  may  be  told.  Not  in  all  detail, 
perhaps,  but  sufficiently  so  to  recount  all  their  great 
hopes  and  failures,  all  their  little  successes  and 
achievements. 

Marshall  Everton  was  a  widower  with  an  only 
son,  and  that  son  was  at  the  other  side  of  the  earth, 
fighting  fever  and  a  dangerous  wound  beneath  the 
roof  of  Isidro  Paris.  When  Daniel  had  enlisted 
two  years  before,  it  had  caused  his  father  more  than 
one  pang,  for  while  of  an  undemonstrative  nature, 
he  loved  his  son,  and  looked  upon  him  as  the  main- 
stay of  his  old  age.  It  had  come  to  pass,  however, 
that  he  now  dreaded  the  return  of  this  son  more 
than  he  had  dreaded  his  departure  at  the  outbreak 
of  the  Spanish  war.  Dreaded  it  as  one  who  fears  to 
look  another  in  the  face,  lest  that  other  should  read 

100 


A  BREACH   OF   TRUST 


in  his  own  a  secret  which  he  fancied  the  long  hours 
of  remorse  had  written  there. 

Neither  old  age  nor  loneliness  was  the  cause  of 
Mr.  Everton's  dejection.  His  life  had  been  success- 
ful for  many  years,  and  his  feet  had  trodden  upon 
well  beaten,  easy  paths.  Great  respectability,  afflu- 
ence, and  some  considerable  degree  of  power  had 
been  his  for  a  long  time,  and  then,  in  a  year,  he  had 
seen  the  whole  outlook  change.  For,  late  in  life, 
he  had,  disregarding  all  the  principles  which  had 
ruled  his  professional  life,  been  guilty  of  what  the 
law  calls,  by  the  harsh,  uncompromising  term,  "  em- 
bezzlement." 

Some  six  years  before  the  night  when  Miss  Fair- 
child  called  upon  him,  her  father,  one  of  his  oldest 
clients  and  friends,  had  died,  leaving  a  large  fortune. 
Under  the  terms  of  the  will  one  half  was  bequeathed 
to  Dr.  Richard  Fairchild  absolutely,  and  the  other 
was  to  be  held  in  trust  for  Constance,  then  a  girl  of 
seventeen.  Marshall  Everton  had  been  named  as 
trustee,  and  he  was  to  turn  over  the  principal  to  the 
beneficiary  when  she  reached  the  age  of  twenty-four. 

A  year  afterwards  there  occurred  one  of  those 
periods  of  financial  depression  and  panic  which  some- 
times sweep  over  nations,  as  though  sent  by  an  all- 
wise  Providence  to  show  mortal  men  that  the  only 

101 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

safe  investments  are  education  and  health.  It  swept 
away  all  of  Mr.  Everton's  private  fortune,  which  was 
considerable,  but  which  he  had  invested  in  a  cor- 
poration of  speculative  tendencies  and  in  the  stock 
of  a  bank  with  which  he  had  dealt  for  years.  The 
former  went  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver,  and  the 
latter  closed  its  doors  one  morning,  leaving  Mr.  Ever- 
ton  with  nothing  but  his  law  practice. 

Men  do  not  easily  recover  from  such  blows  as  this 
when  they  fall  late  in  life.  Whether  the  shock  of 
the  great  misfortune  weakened  in  some  mysterious 
way  the  moral  sense  of  the  man,  or  whether  a  loose- 
ness of  morals,  as  regards  money  matters,  which  had 
all  his  life  lain  dormant  was  now  brought  to  the  sur- 
face, it  would  be  difficult  to  judge.  However  it 
may  have  been,  he  yielded  to  the  temptation  which 
shortly  presented  itself. 

During  the  earlier  years  of  his  life  Mr.  Everton 
had  avoided  Wall  Street  speculations  as  men  do  who 
have  but  a  comfortable  fortune  for  which  they  have 
worked  hard,  but  now  he  listened  to  the  specious  ar- 
guments of  a  skillful  promoter,  who  pointed  out  to 
him  an  unequaled  opportunity  for  making  a  fortune 
in  a  mining  venture  in  New  Mexico.  This  promoter 
called  upon  the  old  man  evenings,  and  described,  in 
glowing  terms,  the  vast,  undeveloped  wealth  which 

102 

' 


A   BREACH   OF   TRUST 


lay  hidden  away  but  a  few  feet  beneath  the  surface, 
and  which  would  soon  be  yielded  forth  for  his,  the 
promoter's  benefit.  Only  a  small  capital  was  needed 
to  remove  the  few  feet  of  earth  referred  to  and  ex- 
pose the  wealth  glittering  below.  The  property  had 
been  examined  by  mining  experts  of  the  first  order, 
and  they  had  reported  so  favorably  that  there  seemed 
no  possible  doubt  that  the  investment  would  soon 
yield  thirty  per  cent.,  and  the  stock  advance  to  a 
proportional  value. 

The  promoter  very  carefully  avoided  any  hint  at 
Mr.  Everton's  being  able  to  secure  stock  in  this 
Eldorado. 

The  best  business  men  are  deceived  sometimes  by 
such  prospectuses  as  this,  and  Mr.  Everton  was  a 
better  lawyer  than  he  was  a  business  man.  More- 
over, the  promoter  was  somewhat  prominent  in  busi- 
ness and  social  circles,  and  was  reputed  to  be  a  man 
successful  in  most  of  the  ventures  which  he  under- 
took. And  so  he  was,  but  the  same  could  not  always 
be  said  for  those  who  shared  with  him  in  his  busi- 
ness enterprises.  It  seemed  hard  to  Mr.  Everton 
that  others  should  be  able  to  turn  their  money  over 
so  quickly,  while  he  was  obliged  to  plod  on  in  the 
old,  unprogressive  way;  and  in  an  unlucky  moment 
he  said  as  much  to  the  promoter. 

103 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

The  mining  man  agreed  with  him,  but  unfor- 
tunately the  property  was  owned  by  a  few  men,  no 
one  of  whom  would  be  willing  to  dispose  of  any  of 
his  stock.  It  was  a  great  pity;  the  promoter  was 
willing  to  agree  with  Mr.  Everton  on  that  score. 

He  was  a  financier  who  had  Shakespeare,  as  well 
as  science,  at  his  fingers'  ends.  He  reminded  the 
old  man  that  "  There  comes  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of 
men  which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune," 
and  had  little  difficulty  in  convincing  him  that  this 
particular  mining  venture  was  his  "  tide,"  which 
might  never  rise  so  high  again.  When  he  went 
away  he  volunteered  to  arrange  the  matter  for  Mr. 
Everton,  if  it  was  in  any  way  possible  to  do  so. 
And  Mr.  Everton  thanked  him  warmly. 

He  "  arranged  it "  within  the  week,  and  his  friend 
became  the  owner  of  some  thirty  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  the  capital  stock  of  the  La  Guara  Mining 
Company,  Limited,  of  New  Mexico  and  Arizona; 
having,  through  the  efforts  of  the  promoter,  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  it  at  what  the  promoter  called  a 
remarkable  figure.  It  was  a  remarkable  figure ;  the 
most  so  of  any  ever  commanded  by  the  shares  of  the 
corporation,  and  to  avail  himself  of  the  opportunity 
Mr.  Everton  borrowed  thirty  thousand  dollars  from 

the  trust  estate  of  Constance  Fairchild. 

104 


A  BREACH   OF   TRUST 


He  used  many  arguments  to  convince  himself  that 
this  was  not  morally  wrong,  though  as  a  lawyer  he 
knew  well  enough  what  the  legal  aspect  of  the  case 
was.  He  reflected  that  if,  by  any  chance  (and  he 
honestly  believed  that  there  was  no  such  chance),  he 
lost  the  money,  he  could  make  it  up  out  of  the  in- 
come from  his  law  practice  before  the  time  came  for 
the  accounting. 

In  three  months  from  the  time  the  sale  was  made, 
the  mining  experts  discovered  that  there  was  no 
water  near  enough  to  the  property  to  enable  them  to 
work  it,  much  to  the  regret  of  the  promoter,  who 
had  himself  lost  over  a  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars. They  had  all  been  equally  unfortunate  in  the 
matter.  The  concern  had  been  capitalized  at  half 
a  million,  on  the  promise  of  future  returns.  Some 
five  or  ten  thousand  had  been  advanced  to  purchase 
the  land,  and  the  rest  of  the  hundred  thousand  which 
the  promoter  lost  was  money  which  he  would  have 
made  had  the  stock  advanced,  on  the  general  mar- 
ket, to  the  figure  which  Mr.  Everton  paid  for  his. 

Two  years  had  passed  since  then,  and  during  them 
Marshall  Everton  had  tried,  conscientiously,  to  make 
up  the  deficit.  He  saved  ten  thousand  dollars  out 
of  his  income  one  year,  and  then  lost  it  in  a  frantic 

effort  to  double  it  in  Wall  Street.      It  seemed  as 

105 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

tho  the  first  step  in  the  wrong  direction  had,  in- 
stead of  being  a  lesson  to  him,  been  just  the  reverse. 
He  reduced  his  household  expenditures  to  such  a 
degree  that  John,  who  had  been  in  the  employ  of 
the  Everton  family  for  twenty  years,  felt  it  incum- 
bent on  him  to  explain  to  the  cook,  who  was  also  an 
old  family  servant,  that  "  there  warn't  no  use  of  it, 
of  course.  It  was  just  a  hobby  of  Mr.  Everton's. 
Most  men  got  like  that  as  they  got  on  in  life." 

His  economies  were  of  no  avail,  for  they  were 
offset  by  a  steady  decrease  in  his  income  from  his 
law  practice.  His  partner,  a  younger,  more  active 
man,  left  the  firm  for  another  and  more  pushing 
one,  and  Marshall  Everton  soon  discovered  that  he 
had  outlived  his  professional  usefulness.  The  defi- 
cit of  thirty  thousand  still  remained  to  stare  him 
in  the  face  by  day  and  ring  in  his  ears  at  night. 
Being  of  a  sensitive  temperament,  his  remorse  was 
acute,  and  he  dreaded  to  look  at  a  newspaper,  lest 
he  should  read  of  the  conviction  and  imprisonment 
of  some  poor  wretch  whose  fault  had  been  no  worse 
than  his  own. 

The  time  had  now  come  when  he  had  something 
worse  to  face  than  the  torturing  voice  of  his  con- 
science. In  five  months  more  the  accounting  would 
have  to  be  made,  and  then  the  secret,  which  was 

106 


A  BREACH   OF   TRUST 


slowly  but  surely  wearing  out  both  mind  and  body, 
would  be  a  secret  no  longer.  It  would  have  to  be- 
come public  property,  and  his  fall  would  be  as  great 
as  his  former  prosperity  had  been.  He  thought  of 
every  enemy  he  had  ever  made,  with  the  reflection 
that  each  would  be  glad  to  hear  of  his  disgrace.  This 
fear  became,  in  time,  a  sort  of  monomania.  He 
hesitated  to  meet  an  acquaintance,  thinking  that,  in 
some  way,  his  secret  had  leaked  out,  and  the  ac- 
quaintance would  cut  him.  He  watched,  with  mor- 
bid interest,  the  faces  of  his  oldest  friends  when  he 
happened  to  meet  them,  which  was  but  rarely  now, 
for  out  of  business  hours  he  lived  the  life  of  a  re- 
cluse, to  see  if  their  greetings  were  as  cordial  as 
ever.  And  if  one  of  them  was  hurried  and  showed 
any  less  cordiality  than  formerly,  he  would  worry 
over  the  fact  for  days. 

When  he  had  looked  into  the  fair,  young  face  of 
his  ward  that  evening,  and  had  seen  the  sympathy 
in  her  eyes  as  he  spoke  of  his  son,  he  had  been 
strongly  tempted  to  confess  his  fault,  and  beg  her, 
for  that  son's  sake,  to  overlook  it.  The  presence  of 
the  older  woman  had  prevented  any  such  course, 
however,  and  the  opportunity  passed.  Had  he  but 
known  it,  it  would  have  been  far  kinder  to  Constance 
to  have  spoken  then. 

107 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

When  an  upright  and  honest  man  makes  a  mis- 
step in  life,  instead  of  weakening  his  moral  principles 
it  not  infrequently  strengthens  them.  If  he  has 
not  been  able  to  gain  the  strength  of  a  temptation 
resisted,  he  can,  at  least,  gain  the  strength  which 
comes  from  remorse.  This  was  the  case  with  Mr. 
Everton,  and  he  now  found  himself  more  conscien- 
tious than  ever,  and  more  anxious  to  do  what  he 
thought  was  his  duty.  And  that  was  very  painful. 

For  some  time,  he  had  realized  that  his  son  ought 
to  know  the  state  of  affairs,  both  as  regards  their 
financial  ruin  and  also  as  regards  the  impending  dis- 
grace, which  he  saw  was  soon  to  come  to  them.  It 
might  be  that  that  son  would  not  return  home  under 
the  circumstances.  In  any  event,  he  ought  to  be 
notified  of  what  he  might  have  to  face  in  the  way  of 
publicity  and  dishonor.  It  was  not  just  that  he 
should  remain  in  ignorance  until  the  day  of  his 
arrival  home. 

Marshall  Everton  roused  himself  with  an  effort 
from  the  reverie  into  which  he  had  fallen  when  the 
two  women  had  left,  and  in  which  he  had  been  pain- 
fully buried  for  two  hours.  He  arose  and  crossed 
unsteadily  to  his  desk,  muttering :  "  There  is  no  bet- 
ter time  than  the  present;  to-morrow  I  may  not  have 

the  strength." 

108 


A  BREACH   OF   TRUST 


He  wrote  slowly,  covering  several  pages  with  the 
story  of  just  what  he  had  done,  omitting  nothing 
but  the  remorse  which  had  followed  the  act  and  the 
temptation  which  had  preceded  it.  He  could  tell 
his  son  of  his  wrong,  but  he  would  not  excuse  it  or 
attempt  to  lessen  the  severity  of  that  son's  judgment. 

It  was  finished  at  last;  sealed,  and  directed.  A 
heavy  sigh  escaped  him  as,  with  trembling  hands, 
he  placed  the  stamp  upon  the  envelope. 

"  What  is  it,  sir  ?     Anything  very  wrong,  sir  ?  " 

It  was  John  who  spoke.  For  more  than  two  hours 
he  had  waited  patiently  in  the  dining-room  for  his 
master  to  retire,  and  now  stood  at  his  side,  watching 
him  anxiously. 

"  No,  no ;  there's  nothing  wrong.  What  should 
be?" 

"  Nothing,  of  course,  sir.  I  thought  as  how  you 
spoke;  that  was  all." 

"  Take  this  letter,  John,  and  mail  it." 

"  Yes,  sir.  But  I'll  wait  till  I've  seen  you  safe 
up  to  bed  first.  It's  uncommon  late — most  mid- 
night." 

"  Is  it,  indeed  ?  I  am  sorry  to  have  kept  you  so 
late." 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,  sir.  I  should  most  likely  have 
stayed  up,  anyhow." 

109 


DANIEL    E7ERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Mr.  Everton  arose  and  walked  slowly  to  the  door. 
The  effort  of  writing  to  his  son  had  been  almost  too 
much  for  him.  When  he  reached  the  threshold  he 
tottered,  and  would  have  fallen  but  for  the  strong 
arm  of  the  servant. 

"  Do  you  feel  very  weak  ?  Would  you  like  a  glass 
of  brandy,  sir  ?  "  asked  John. 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  felt  the  heat  for  the  moment, 
that's  all." 

Very  slowly  and  cautiously  the  pair  ascended  the 
stairs.  When  they  were  about  half-way  to  the  top, 
Mr.  Everton  paused  to  take  breath.  "  I'm  afraid, 
John,"  he  said,  "  that  there's  no  doubt  about  it." 

"  About  what,  sir  ?  " 

"  About  my  being  old,"  replied  Mr.  Everton,  be- 
ginning once  more  to  mount  the  stairs.  "  I  am  old 
— very  old." 

"  Nonsense !  You've  many  a  good  year  before 
you  yet." 

"  If  I  had  died  just  six  years  ago,"  continued  Mr. 
Everton,  looking  straight  in  front  of  him,  "  it  would 
have  been  a  good  thing — a  very  good  thing." 

With  this  curious  observation  he  gained  the  top 
of  the  stairs  and,  dismissing  John,  entered  his  room. 


110 


Chapter  VIH 

MERCEDES 


HE  rainy  season  was  well  advanced  before 
Daniel  Everton  recovered  sufficiently  to  take 
any  notice  of  his  surroundings.  His  wound 
healed  rapidly  enough,  but  a  low  fever,  which  had 
seized  upon  his  weakened  frame,  kept  him  be- 
tween life  and  death  for  many  weeks.  The  tide 
turned  at  last,  however,  and  he  slowly  crept  back 
to  life.  He  still  occupied  the  room  into  which  he 
had  been  carried  on  the  night  when  he  received  his 
wound,  as  Paris  had  met  all  suggestions  as  to  his 
removal  with  impatient  abruptness.  "  The  man  was 
hurt  while  guarding  my  property,"  he  had  said,  "and 
do  you  think  I  will  allow  him  to  be  taken  away  now  ? 
Such  is  not  the  gratitude  of  Isidro  Paris." 

In  after  years,  when  he  looked  back  upon  this 
long  illness,  there  was  one  day  which  stood  out  in 
sharp  relief  against  the  background  of  the  long  weeks 
of  restless  pain;  when  he  seemed  to  come  out  of  his 

state  of  mental  confusion  into  a  clearer  atmosphere. 

Ill 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

It  was  the  day  which  marked  the  turning-point  in  his 
sickness — when  the  fever  left  him  to  grope  his  way- 
back  to  life  and  strength. 

One  afternoon  in  the  first  week  of  September,  the 
big  windows  which  opened  out  of  his  room  upon  the 
broad  veranda  were  thrown  open,  admitting  a  soft 
breeze  from  the  sea.  The  skies  had,  apparently,  ex- 
hausted themselves  with  the  long  months  of  violent 
rain  and  wind,  and  it  was  but  a  gentle  shower  that 
fell  upon  the  tin  roof  of  the  building  as  Everton 
opened  his  eyes.  The  sound  was  very  soothing  to 
his  ears,  tired  with  the  discordant  voices  which  he 
had  heard  so  long  in  his  delirium. 

As  he  glanced  wearily  at  the  opposite  wall,  he  felt 
the  not  unpleasant  languor  which  comes  with  ex- 
treme weakness.  Upon  a  little  stand  by  his  bed- 
side there  was  a  cooling  drink.  He  turned  and 
stretched  out  his  hand  to  take  it,  but  fell  back,  over- 
come by  the  exertion. 

From  a  big  chair  in  one  corner  of  the  room  a 
young  girl  arose,  and  crossing  to  his  side  placed  the 
glass  to  his  lips.  She  was  obliged  to  slip  her  other 
arm  around  his  neck  to  support  the  head,  which  was 
throbbing  wildly.  He  drank  eagerly,  and  then  lay 
back  upon  his  pillow,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  her  face. 

The  most  recent  companions  of  his  delirium  had 
112 


MERCEDES 


been  natives — insurgents — who  had  held  him  pris- 
oner and  compelled  him  to  spend  night  and  day 
carrying  heavy  sacks  of  rice  up  and  down  moun- 
tains, over  rough  trails,  and  through  icy  rivers,  which 
chilled  him  to  the  bone;  after  which  they  would  let 
him  halt  for  a  while  on  burning  plains,  where  there 
was  no  shade  and  where  his  head  would  ache  with 
the  blinding,  splitting  ache  which  comes  in  a  desert 
from  heat  and  thirst. 

And  now  he  found  himself  in  a  cool,  dark  room, 
and  by  his  side  there  stood  a  white  woman,  who  was 
fair  to  look  upon.  So  he  regarded  her  long  and 
searchingly,  and  she,  thinking  that  he  was  still  delir- 
ious, returned  his  gaze  without  self-consciousness 
or  shyness. 

She  was  about  seventeen,  and  lovely  with  the 
southern  loveliness  of  premature  maturity — a  variety 
which  makes  charming,  altho  not  enduring,  types  of 
feminine  beauty.  Over  her  white  shoulders — there 
was  hardly  enough  native  blood  in  her  veins  to  be 
apparent  in  her  coloring — her  glossy,  black  hair  fell 
in  luxuriant,  waving  masses.  Her  face  was  plump 
and  round,  and  her  mouth  beautifully  formed.  Her 
chin  was,  if  anything,  a  trifle  too  full  for  beauty, 
but  that  was  one  of  those  defects  which  are  not 

noticed  while  youth  lasts.  / 
8  ^13 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Whatever  defects  Mercedes  Paris  may  have  had, 
Everton  did  not  observe  them  on  this  occasion,  hav- 
ing no  one  to  compare  her  with  but  old  Benita,  who 
had  been  one  of  the  most  hideous  figures  in  the  night- 
mare through  which  he  had  struggled  for  three  long 
months.  As  his  eyes  wandered  from  her  face,  he 
noticed  that  she  wore  the  native  costume,  and  won- 
dered fretfully  what  this  white  girl  was  doing  there, 
dressed  in  Benita's  clothes. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  he  asked,  faintly. 

They  were  the  first  conscious  words  he  had  spoken, 
and  the  color  mounted  to  the  clear,  olive  cheeks  of 
the  young  girl  as  she  heard  them.  Quickly  setting 
the  glass  back  upon  the  table,  she  crept  out  of  the 
room  in  confusion.  A  moment  later  he  heard  her 
speak  to  those  outside;  then  a  firm  step  crossed  the 
hall,  and  Dr.  Fairchild  was  standing  by  his  bedside. 

"  Well,  Everton.  How  do  you  find  yourself  ? " 
the  physician  inquired,  kindly. 

"  Very  weak,  sir,"  replied  the  sick  man.  "  Have 
I  been  ill  long?" 

"  Matter  of  months — more  or  less.  Never  mind. 
Better  not  talk." 

Everton  nodded  slightly  and  gazed  at  the  shadows 
on  the  ceiling.  After  a  moment  he  aroused  him- 
self by  an  effort  and  asked :  "  Am  I  going  to  live  ?  " 

114 


MERCEDES 


"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  simply. 

The  other  smiled  to  show  that  he  understood,  and 
then  closed  his  eyes.  The  light,  dim  as  it  was, 
hurt  him.  Fairchild  stood  by  his  side  until  his 
heavy  breathing  assured  him  that  his  patient  was 
asleep,  and  looked  curiously  at  the  face  of  the  man 
whose  fight  with  death  had  been  fought  and  won 
against  such  heavy  odds. 

It  was  one  to  interest  a  character  student,  and  for 
some  time  Fairchild  had  indulged  in  some  specula- 
tions as  to  the  motive  which  had  actuated  this  man 
to  enlist.  The  face,  which,  like  the  body,  was  thin 
almost  to  emaciation,  was  quite  deeply  marked. 
There  are  lines  in  the  human  countenance  which 
seem  to  lie  beneath  the  surface  in  health,  but  which 
come  out  after  a  long  illness  and  tell  their  story.  His 
hair — which  had  grown  a  little  thin  and  a  little  gray 
during  his  illness — was  tossed  back  from  a  high,  well- 
shaped  forehead.  His  beard  had  grown  long,  and 
was  unkempt  and  straggling. 

"  A  gentleman — somewhat  out  of  repair,"  was 
Fairchild's  mental  comment. 

As  the  days  passed  on,  Everton's  convalescence 
progressed  rapidly.  He  was  soon  well  enough  to  be 
moved  to  a  cane  chair  on  the  veranda,  in  which  he 

would  lie  for  hours  at  a  time,  watching  the  white 

115 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

sails  of  the  Paris  sugar  lorchas  on  their  voyages  to 
Iloilo,  or  dozing  contentedly,  lulled  by  the  soft  rust- 
ling of  the  bamboo  brake  in  Senor  Isidro's  garden. 

Then,  later  on,  as  he  grew  strong  enough,  he  would 
walk  or  drive  about  the  hacienda,  in  the  management 
of  which  he  showed  an  interest  which  pleased  and 
flattered  the  old  planter. 

The  two  men  grew  to  be  very  good  friends  during 
this  time.  Everton  had  been  anxious  to  repay  his 
host  in  some  measure  for  his  kindness,  and  had  found 
ways  in  which  he  was  able  to  be  of  great  assistance 
to  him.  fParis  was  a  hard  worker,  as  Filipinos  go, 
but  he  had  a  decided  hatred  of  anything  connected 
with  pen  and  ink,  and  his  bookkeeping  was  of  the 
most  primitive  descriptions  Everton  offered  to  help 
him  one  day  when  he  was  paying  off  his  laborers, 
and  the  offer  was  gladly  accepted.  From  this 
small  beginning  the  American  had  come,  in  a  few 
weeks,  to  be  almost  indispensable.  He  simplified 
Paris's  accounts  for  him,  besides  indicating  several 
little  ways  in  which  economy  could  be  practised,  and 
the  sugar  output  of  the  hacienda  be  increased.  He 
also  discovered  that  his  too  good-natured  friend  was 
being  robbed  by  his  underlings  in  many  petty  ways, 
and  explained  to  him  how  this  could  be  prevented. 

"  What  you  really  need,"  he  had  said  one  day, 
116 


MERCEDES 


when  he  had  succeeded  in  convincing  his  host  that 
one  of  the  oldest  and  most  trusted  of  the  hacienda 
hands  had  been  practising,  unsuspected,  a  petty  dis- 
honesty for  years,  "  is  an  overseer  whom  you  can 
trust." 

"  Ah,  yes,  my  son,"  replied  the  shrewd  old  man. 
"  No  doubt  such  a  one  would  be  invaluable.  But 
where  am  I  to  get  him?  An  honest  man  is  not  al- 
ways easily  found,  and,  after  all,  I  am  not  robbed 
as  much  as  some  of  my  friends." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  day  some  four  weeks 
after  the  soldier's  convalescence  had  begun,  he  and 
his  host  were  together  upon  the  broad  veranda 
which  served  as  a  living  room  to  the  inmates  of  the 
big  house.  They  had  just  returned  from  a  visit  to 
the  sugar  mills,  and  Paris  had  explained  the  process 
of  crushing  out  the  sugar  from  the  cane. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  machinery  ?  "  he  asked, 
as  he  handed  the  American  a  cigar  and  lit  one  him- 
self. 

"  Well,"  replied  Everton,  "  I  noticed  that  it  does 
not  get  all  the  juice  out  of  the  cane." 

"ETo?     It's  the  only  kind  I  ever  saw." 

"  You  ought  to  get  some  American  machinery.  I 
believe  that  there  is  a  machine  made  which  crushes 

out  practically  all  of  the  juice." 

117 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  I  get  all  that  I  can  handle  now,"  said  Paris.  "  I 
always  lose  a  good  part  of  my  crop  each  year,  because 
I  can't  get  through  with  the  boiling  process  in  the 
short  season  before  the  cane  rots  on  my  hands." 

"  There  are  several  ways  in  which  that  could  be 
remedied.  You  have,  I  noticed,  only  oil  lamps,  so 
that  it  is  impossible  to  work  at  night." 

"  What  would  you  suggest — electricity  ?  "  asked 
Paris,  humorously. 

"Yes;  why  not?  You  have  power  enough  in  that 
river  there  to  run  a  dynamo,  which  would  light  your 
whole  hacienda  and  run  the  cars  down  to  your  dock. 
That  would  be  much  better  than  pushing  them  along 
by  hand,  as  you  do  now.  I  think  that  if  you  were 
to  put  in  modern  machinery  and  electricity  you  could 
more  than  double  your  output  each  year,  besides  get- 
ting along  with  fewer  hands." 

"  The  cost  of  labor  is  so  little  that  it  is  hardly 
worth  considering,"  said  Paris ;  "  but  the  use  of  new 
machinery  certainly  is.  I  value  this  hacienda  at 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  I  make  about 
fifty  thousand  a  year  on  it." 

Everton  expressed  his  astonishment  at  this.  If  a 
man  like  Paris,  with  his  antiquated  machinery  and 
equally  antiquated  methods,  could  get  such  a  return 

from  his  hacienda,  he  wondered  what  an  enterpris- 

118 


MERCEDES 


ing  American  could  do.  Of  late  he  had  received 
several  letters  from  Marshall  Everton,  in  which  the 
old  man  had  spoken  of  the  changes  in  their  family 
fortunes  and  the  advisability  of  the  son's  seeking 
some  remunerative  employment  as  soon  as  he  was 
discharged  from  the  army.  His  enlistment  had  ex- 
pired, and  the  young  man  was  in  a  position  where  it 
seemed  urgently  advisable  for  him  to  turn  his  atten- 
tion to  his  financial  position  and  do  something  to 
remedy  it.  He  had  lived  all  his  life  in  the  anticipa- 
tion, and  indeed  the  actual  enjoyment,  of  affluence, 
and  he  now  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the 
very  serious  problem  of  earning  his  daily  bread. 
The  future  had  no  terrors  for  him,  however.  His 
experience  as  a  soldier  had  taught  him  the  difference 
between  the  necessities  of  life  and  its  superfluities, 
and  in  learning  this  he  had  mastered  one  of  its  most 
valuable  lessons. 

While  Everton  was  thinking  of  the  opportunities 
which  he  saw  about  him  for  making  a  fortune  in 
sugar,  and  wondering  how  he  personally  could  make 
use  of  them,  Paris  regarded  him  thoughtfully.  He 
reflected  how  much  more  interest  he  would  take  in 
the  work  if  he  had  a  son  to  help  him  and  step  into 
his  place  some  day  when  the  life  work  was  done. 

"  I  am  going  into  town  in  the  morning,"  said 
119 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Everton,  after  a  few  moments,  "  and  I  expect  to  re- 
ceive my  discharge  from  the  army.  My  time  was 
up  six  weeks  ago,  and  the  other  men  who  enlisted 
when  I  did  have  all  been  discharged,  or  re-enlisted, 
before  this." 

"  You  will  not  remain  in  the  army  ? "  asked  Paris, 
somewhat  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  no.  I  enlisted  for  the  war  and  was  in  Cuba. 
The  trouble  seems  about  over  out  here,  and  I  have 
my  way  to  make  in  the  world." 

"  I  want  you  to  stay  with  me  for  the  present," 
Paris  said.  "  I  cannot  spare  you.  You  have  been 
of  great  service  to  me.  Perhaps  I  may  have  a  prop- 
osition to  submit  to  you." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  and  I  shall  be  happy  to  stay. 
While  we  are  on  the  subject,  I  noticed  that  when 
your  cane  juice  has  been  crushed  out  it  runs  into 
big  vats  and  is  boiled." 

"Yes;  what  about  it?" 

"  Simply  this.  When  those  vats  are  full,  instead 
of  letting  your  men  stop  work  and  go  to  sleep  until 
the  juice  is  cooled,  why  don't  you  have  other  vats 
made  and  ladle  the  sugar  into  them?  You  could 
then  go  right  ahead  and  crush  more  cane,  instead  of 
losing  five  or  six  hours  each  day." 

The  simplicity  of  this  arrangement  appealed  to 
120 


MERCEDES 


Paris  at  once.  "  I  will  have  it  done,"  he  said.  "  I 
wonder  that  I  never  thought  of  that  myself." 

They  continued  to  talk  about  the  introduction  of 
new  machinery  until  the  appearance  of  a  muchacho 
bearing  a  tray.  It  was  time  for  the  afternoon  meal, 
which  in  the  Philippines  breaks  the  long  fast  from 
luncheon  at  twelve  until  dinner  at  half-past  eight 
or  nine.  Senora  Paris  and  Mercedes  soon  came  out 
and  joined  them. 

Everton  had  become  very  much  at  home  in  this 
household  during  the  weeks  he  had  spent  in  getting 
back  his  strength.  He  had  shown  to  Senora  Paris 
many  little  courtesies,  such  as  American  men  are 
apt  to  show  to  older  women,  and  these  unaccustomed 
attentions  had  made  for  him  a  warm  friend. 

Of  the  daughter  he  had  seen  far  more  than  men 
usually  see  of  unmarried  girls  in  the  Philippines. 
His  being  a  guest  in  the  house,  and  ill,  had  thrown 
him  into  intimate  contact  with  all  the  members,  and 
Mercedes  had  read  aloud  to  him  from  "  Don  Quix- 
ote "  and  other  works  of  Spanish  fiction. 

"  Our  friend  informs  me  that  he  leaves  the  army 
to-morrow,"  said  Senor  Paris,  filling  his  mouth  full 
of  bread  and  jam. 

Whether   he   ever  put  in   American  machinery 

or  not,  Everton  felt  quite  sure  that  Paris  would 

121 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

stick  to  his  Filipino  table-manners  to  the  end  of 
time. 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  leave  us  then,"  said  his  wife, 
courteously. 

"  No;  your  husband  has  very  kindly  asked  me  to 
remain  here  for  the  present." 

"  Asked  you  ?  I  insist  upon  it,"  exclaimed  Paris, 
gulping  down  his  chocolate  with  a  loud  noise.  "  I 
could  not  get  along  without  you." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Everton;  "  but  I  fear 
you  exaggerate." 

"  I  am  sure  he  does  not,"  said  Mercedes.  "  Are 
you  going  home  to  America  ? " 

"  I  have  made  no  plans  as  yet,"  he  answered, 
hesitating. ' "  A  wave  of  sadness  swept  over  him  at 
the  thought  that  the  word  "  home  "  did  not  have 
the  same  significance  for  him  that  it  had  had  during 
his  mother's  lifetime.  A  home  can  only  be  made 
by  a  mother  or  a  wife. 

"  I  am  a  soldier,  and  can  make  my  home  wher- 
ever I  can  find  enough  ground  to  spread  my  blan- 
ket," he  said. 

"  We  have  ground  enough  for  that  here,"  rejoined 
Paris,  graciously.  "  About  ten  thousand  acres." 

"  Perhaps  he  has  a  sweetheart  in  America,"  said 
Senora  Paris,  dipping  a  piece  of  bread  into  her 

122 


MERCEDES 


chocolate  and  raising  it  to  her  lips.  Everton  looked 
at  her,  amused.  Two  years  before,  the  table-man- 
ners of  these  people  would  have  jarred  upon  him; 
but  now,  after  his  experience  in  the  ranks,  where 
table-manners  are  not  especially  cultivated,  he 
scarcely  noticed  them. 

"  No,"  he  answered.  "  I  am  alone  in  the  world, 
except  for  my  father." 

"  Pobrecito !  "  exclaimed  Senora  Paris,  sympa- 
thetically. She  had  large  brown  eyes  of  the  kind 
which  grow  moist  on  the  least  possible  provocation. 

When  they  had  finished,  Everton  suggested  a 
stroll  down  the  road  leading  to  the  sea.  Mercedes 
shyly  acquiesced. 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  son  like  that,"  said  Paris,  when 
he  and  his  wife  were  alone  together. 

"  Sons  are  sent  by  God,"  explained  his  spouse,  re- 
ligiously. "  You  might  have  had  one  like  Jose 
Mispall,"  she  added,  with  some  spirit. 

Senor  Isidro  shrugged  his  shoulders  by  way  of 
comment.  "  I  need  help  here  on  this  place.  I  have 
learned  to  lean  on  this  young  man." 

"  Pay  him  a  salary,  then,  to  stay  with  you.  You 
can  afford  it." 

"  Yes,  but — I  believe  him  to  be  one  of  the  young 
men  who  work  for  themselves  and  not  on  salaries. 

123 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Do  you  remember,  Carissima,"  he  continued  after 
a  pause,  "  how  I  gave  up  my  salary  the  first  year  we 
were  married  and  went  to  work  for  myself  on  the 
hacienda  Carlotta? " 

"  I  do  not  forget,"  replied  his  wife  with  a  sigh. 
"  Then  it  was  always  '  our  future  ';  now  it  is  the  fu- 
ture of  Mercedes." 

"  We  molded  our  future,"  replied  Senor  Paris, 
gently.  "  Mercedes  cannot  mold  hers.  She  must 
marry,  and  the  pick  of  her  suitors  seems  to  be  Jose 
Mispall.  I  sometimes  wonder  if  all  the  young  people 
are  like  that  in  these  days." 

Senora  Paris  made  no  reply,  and  he  looked  down 
the  road  to  where  Everton  and  Mercedes  were  walk- 
ing. At  that  moment  the  American  put  forth  his 
hand  to  help  his  companion  across  a  rough  spot  in 
the  road.  As  Senor  Isidro  looked  at  them,  his 
thoughts  took  a  strange  drift. 

"Why  not?"  he  muttered  to  himself.     "Why 

not?" 

124 


Chapter  IX 
SENOR  ISIDRO  GIVES  A  BALL 

HE  following  day  Everton  was  discharged 
from  the  army,  and  as  time  passed  he  be- 
came, by  degrees,  the  controlling  hand  in  the 
management  of  the  Paris  hacienda.  While  he  had 
never  before  had  any  practical  experience  in  the  run- 
ning of  sugar  plantations,  he  was  possessed  of  a  good 
fund  of  that  quality  which  goes  by  the  name  of  com- 
mon sense,  and  which  is  probably  derived,  by  evolu- 
tion, from  the  experience  of  former  generations. 

He  took  a  great  interest  in  the  work,  and  it  was 
of  a  character  to  appeal  to  him.  After  the  restric- 
tions of  his  soldier  existence,  it  was  delightful  to  be 
his  own  master  once  more,  and  his  duties  as  general 
manager  gave  him  plenty  of  out-of-door  work  rid- 
ing about  the  hacienda  and  giving  a  personal  super- 
vision to  many  things  which  had  previously  been 
allowed  to  take  care  of  themselves.  Senor  Isidro 
had  been  suffering  for  some  time  from  an  attack  of 

rheumatism,  and  was  quite  content  to  be  confined  to 

125 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

the  house,  where  he  could  spend  his  time  reading 
"  Don  Quixote "  and  other  Spanish  novels  with 
which  the  house  was  stocked,  and  still  know  that  his 
business  was  in  competent  hands.  He  grew  daily 
more  and  more  attached  to  Everton,  who,  feeling 
keenly  the  obligation  placed  upon  him  by  their  kind- 
ness during  his  long  illness,  did  his  best  to  make 
up  for  it,  in  a  measure,  by  his  courtesy  to  the  dif- 
ferent members  of  the  household. 

He  talked  much  of  America,  for  in  everything 
connected  with  that  country  Senor  Isidro  showed 
the  keenest  interest.  It  was  the  interest  which  an 
old  man  takes  when,  near  the  close  of  his  life's 
journey,  he  looks  about  him  and  sees  the  changes 
which  are  coming  in  with  the  new  generation.  He 
was  sincerely  attached  to  his  country,  but  the  strong 
mixture  of  white  blood  in  his  veins  gave  him  a  far 
more  liberal  mind  than  most  of  his  countrymen.  He 
was  a  Filipino  in  his  devotion  to  the  Philippines, 
but  a  Spaniard  in  his  half -concealed  contempt  for  the 
Malay  character.  ' 

He  was  far-sighted  enough  to  see  that  American 
sovereignty  in  the  islands  was  the  very  thing  needed 
to  develop  both  the  country  and  the  race,  and  he  was 
near  enough  to  the  end  of  his  journey  to  be  able  to 

view  political  questions  from  an  unbiased  standpoint. 

126 


SENOR    ISIDRO    GIVES   A   BALL 

Sympathy  with  the  wrongs  and  injustice  to  which 
the  race  had  been  subjected,  he  had  always  had.  In- 
deed, he  had  gone  so  far  as  to  take  part  in  the  revo- 
lution of  1844 — if  that  somewhat  spectacular  affair 
can  be  dignified  by  the  name  of  revolution.  But 
he  was  far  from  being  in  sympathy  with  the  fiery 
and  impracticable  patriotism  of  the  others,  which 
showed  itself  in  bombastic  speech-making  and  other 
heroics.  He  knew  that  such  men  as  the  patriot  Risal 
were  the  exceptions  from  which  one  might  infer  the 
future  possibilities  of  the  race,  not  the  standards  by 
which  that  race  could  be  judged  in  the  present.  He 
had  once  expressed  his  views  tersely  to  Everton,  by 
saying  that  such  of  the  people  as  did  not  deserve  to 
be  hanged  certainly  deserved  to  be  free ;  but  freedom 
and  self-government  were  not  synonymous,  as  he 
understood  the  native  character. 

Now,  while  Senor  Isidro  took  a  broad,  general  in- 
terest in  the  political  future  of  his  country,  he  took 
a  much  stronger,  personal  one  in  the  future  of  his 
own  little  family. 

He  had  no  son.  Just  what  a  disappointment  this 
had  been  to  him  it  is  difficult  for  any  one  to  realize 
who  does  not  belong  to  a  semi-civilized  community 
and  feel  a  half-savage  pride  in  male  offspring.  His 
family  consisted  of  his  wife,  Mercedes,  and  his 

127 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

brother  Bartholomew;  but  with  the  latter  his  rela- 
tions had  of  late  been  somewhat  strained.  The 
question  which  had  so  often  presented  itself  to  him 
was  what  his  little  family  would  do  when  he  was 
gone,  i  Above  all  things  on  earth  he  loved  his  daugh- 
ter, and  that  which  concerned  her  future  concerned 
him  more  nearly  than  anything  else.  And  that 
which  most  concerns  the  future  of  any  girl  is  her 
marriage. 

He  recognized  the  fact  that  she  had  now  arrived 
at  an  age  when  it  was  his  duty  to  give  the  subject 
serious  consideration  and  select  for  her  a  suitable 
husband.  In  regard  to  this  selection  he  was  placed 
in  a  very  difficult  position,  on  account  of  his  mixed 
blood.  He  was,  himself,  more  than  half  white,  and 
so  was  his  wife,  while  the  little  Mercedes  was  so 
Spanish  in  type  that  only  her  dress  proclaimed  the 
mestizo,.  He  disliked  the  idea  of  marrying  her  to 
a  Filipino  for  many  reasons,  the  strongest  of  which 
were  business  ones. 

He  was  a  rich  man,  but  his  wealth  was  not  invested 
in  stocks  and  bonds  which  could  be  left  to  themselves 
while  he  drew  regular  dividends.  It  was  in  sugar 
lands  which,  properly  managed,  would  return  a  hand- 
some profit,  but  which  would  otherwise  soon  cease 

to  pay  expenses.     He  had  good  reason  to  believe  that 

128 


SENOR    ISIDRO    GIPES    A  BALL 

in  the  hands  of  an  incompetent  son-in-law  his  prop- 
erty would  be  mismanaged.  Most  of  the  young 
caballeros  who  had  suggested  themselves  as  possible 
candidates  for  Mercedes'  hand  were  men  of  the  type 
of  Jose  Mispall — more  addicted  to  cards  than  to 
work. 

But  now  fortune  had  thrown  in  his  way  a  young 
man  who  seemed  to  be  in  every  way  the  right  man 
in  the  right  place.  In  Everton  he  had  chanced  upon 
a  young,  honest  specimen  of  that  great  people  who 
had  come  so  lately  into  control  of  the  land.  He 
was  far-sighted  enough  to  see  that  his  indolent,  easy- 
going countrymen  could  not  hope  to  resist,  commer- 
cially, this  new  force.  It  was  the  progress  and  sci- 
ence of  the  twentieth  century,  supported  by  a  rugged, 
northern  temperament.  He  could  not  help  but  fore- 
see that  the  wealth  of  his  own  beautiful  island,  and 
that  of  the  others,  would  ultimately  come  into  the 
possession  of  this  new  race.', 

The  time  had  come  when  he  must  step  into  line 
with  the  new  order  of  things.  If  he  did,  there  was 
practically  no  limit  to  the  power  and  prestige  which 
his  family  might  enjoy  in  the  next  generation;  if 
he  did  not,  they,  in  common  with  the  others,  must 
eventually  go  to  the  wall.  He  needed  American 

methods — skill,  honesty,  and  enterprise; — above  all, 
9  129 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

he  needed  the  assistance  of  some  capable  young 
American  who  possessed  these  qualities  and  who 
would,  at  the  same  time,  regard  the  interests  of  the 
Paris  family  as  his  own. 

Now,  Isidro  Paris  was  possessed  of  a  considerable 
knowledge  of  the  world — which  is  to  say,  that  he 
had  observed  carefully  many  men,  and  had  discov- 
ered that,  after  all,  each  was  very  like  the  others; 
in  that  with  each  self-interest  was  the  great,  if  not 
the  only,  interest.  He  was  sufficiently  just  to  deem 
this  but  natural,  having  studied  himself  as  well  as 
his  fellows.  He  thought,  therefore,  that  he  might 
buy  American  machinery  and  hire  an  American 
manager  and  still  not  be  able  to  go  to  his  rest  secure 
in  the  knowledge  that  his  family's  interests  would  be 
conserved.  If  Everton,  who  was  the  man  he  needed, 
was  to  be  bound  to  the  interests  of  Mercedes,  who 
was  the  one  he  considered,  their  interests  must  be 
made  identical,  and  there  was  but  one  way  to  ac- 
complish that — he  must  marry  her. 

The  scheme  appealed  to  the  old  man  in  every 
way.  He  had  grown  personally  attached  to  Ever- 
ton, and  the  thought  that  he  might  have  his  com- 
panionship during  the  closing  years  of  his  life  was 
very  pleasing  to  him.  The  question  did  not  seem 

to  be  open  to  argument.      The  more  he  observed 

130 


SENOR    ISIDRO    GI^£S   A  BALL 

Everton,  the  more  he  became  fixed  in  the  belief  that 
the  young  American  was  all  that  could  be  desired 
in  a  son-in-law.  There  was,  too,  another  argument 
which  had  great  weight  with  him.  Mercedes  was  so 
nearly  white  that  he  shrank  from  the  thought  of  her 
marriage  with  any  but  a  white  man.  Under  the 
new  regime,  a  white  man  meant  an  American,  just 
as  it  had  formerly  meant  a  Spaniard,  and  Everton 
had  clearly  been  sent  by  Providence,  just  at  the 
right  time. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  ball  in  honor  of  Mer- 
cedes' eighteenth  birthday.  Everton  had  ridden 
away  at  dawn,  to  •  spend  the  day  in  Silay,  and  now 
returned  at  seven  o'clock  to  find  that  a  transformation 
had  been  wrought  in  the  house  during  his  absence. 

He  had  never  given  the  Filipinos,  as  a  race, 
credit  for  anything  approaching  artistic  taste.  More 
than  once  the  contrast  between  the  beauty  of  every- 
thing natural  and  the  Spanish  crudeness  of  every- 
thing artificial  in  the  land  had  impressed  itself  pain- 
fully upon  him.  But  now,  as  he  paused  at  the  head 
of  the  grand  stairway  and  marveled  at  the  way  in 
which  nature  had  been  invited  indoors,  he  was 
forced  to  admit  that  he  had  done  these  people  an 
injustice. 

181 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  highly  polished  floor  of 
dark,  hard  wood,  he  could  easily  have  believed  that 
he  stood  in  the  palm  grove  by  the  sea.  A  hundred 
of  the  stately  trees  had  been  ravished  of  their  long, 
graceful  branches,  with  which  the  walls  and  ceilings 
were  banked.  The  doorways  and  windows  had  been 
converted  into  arches  whose  sides  were  dwarf  palms, 
their  branches  blending  together  at  the  top  and  con- 
cealing the  woodwork  with  a  clever  counterfeit  of 
nature.  A  soft  light  was  furnished  by  oil  lamps 
hidden  away  behind  the  foliage  and  by  innumerable 
Japanese  lanterns,  concealed  in  the  same  way. 

There  was  no  one  visible  about  the  hall  or  veran- 
das when  Everton  arrived  and  went  to  his  own  room 
to  dress.  He  was  in  high  spirits,  having  driven  a 
sharp  bargain  with  some  merchants  in  Iloilo  for  the 
sale  of  the  season's  sugar  crop.  He  was  to  go  over 
to  Iloilo  the  next  morning,  and  looked  forward  to 
the  trip  with  a  boyish  pleasure.  The  easy  freedom 
of  the  life  he  was  now  leading  was  in  strong  and 
agreeable  contrast  to  the  restrictions  of  his  life  in 
the  ranks. 

It  was  not  long  after  the  hurried  dinner  before 
the  guests  began  to  arrive,  and  by  ten  o'clock  the 
double  rows  of  chairs  about  the  walls  of  the  hall- 
way were  filled  with  the  dusky  beauties  of  the  coast. 

132 


SENOR    IS1DRO    GIVES  A   BALL 

There  was  Senor  Pedrera  of  Talisay,  a  Spaniard 
whose  life-long  residence  in  the  Philippines  had 
given  him  a  darker  skin  than  those  of  his  three  mes- 
tizo, daughters — the  acknowledged  belles  of  their 
town.  There  were  a  half-dozen  army  officers  in 
their  immaculate  white  duck  uniforms,  and  among 
them  Taylor  and  the  second  lieutenant.  The  latter 
had  arrived  in  Silay  two  hours  before  from  a  trip  to 
the  north,  and  hearing  of  the  ball  had  mounted  a 
fresh  horse  and  pushed  on.  There  was  a  major 
from  Iloilo  and  a  regular  army  doctor  from  Bacolod. 
These  two  retired  to  the  balcony  early  in  the  even- 
ing, and  became  so  steeped  in  Scotch  whisky  and 
reminiscences  of  the  Civil  War  as  to  be  unavailable 
for  partners.  The  doctor  managed  to  pull  himself 
together  at  supper  time,  leaving  the  major  asleep  in 
his  chair  and  snoring  assiduously. 

There  were  others,  too  numerous  to  mention,  for 
the  visiting  list  of  the  Paris  family  was  a  large  one, 
and  included  nearly  every  hacendero  from  Silay  to 
Bago.  Not  a  few  had  traveled  all  day  in  their  little 
quilises,  that  they  might  be  present  on  this  great 
occasion  and  enjoy  the  regal  hospitality  of  the 
wealthy  planter. 

A  decided  constraint  and  formality  marked  the  be- 
ginning of  the  evening's  festivities.  The  matrons 

133 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

occupied  the  second  row  of  seats,  with  their  backs 
against  the  wall  of  verdure,  giving  up  the  front  row 
to  the  younger  girls.  The  night  was  warm,  and  they 
all  fanned  themselves  vigorously,  which  caused  the 
heavy  air  to  take  up  the  perfumes  from  their  comely 
persons  and  spread  them  abroad.  Many  and  various 
were  these  perfumes,  but  chief  among  them  all  was 
the  heavy,  determined  odor  of  cocoanut  oil  which 
arose  from  the  glossy,  black  heads  and  seemed  to 
challenge  all  comers  for  the  exclusive  possession  of 
the  air. 

Until  the  dancing  began  the  men  adjourned  to  the 
dining-room  to  drink  and  smoke,  leaving  the  women 
to  their  own  devices.  Either  a  shyness  on  the  part 
of  the  latter  or  else  a  social  barrier  of  long  custom, 
divided  the  sexes  until  later  in  the  evening. 

The  ball  opened  with  a  rigadon — a  characteristic 
dance  of  the  islands — in  which  every  one  took  part. 
This  was  followed  by  a  waltz,  which  latter  was,  in 
turn,  succeeded  by  a  polka — much  to  the  disgust  of 
the  second  lieutenant. 

"  How  do  you  dance  the  blame  thing,  anyway  ?  " 
he  inquired  of  Taylor,  who  was  standing  in  one  of 
the  long  windows,  lazily  watching  the  others  get  over- 
heated. 

"  Try  a  two-step." 

134 


SENOR    ISIDRO    GIFES   A   BALL 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  their  polka  is  noth- 
ing but  our  two-step?  I  thought  it  was  a  kind  of 
an  obsolete,  one-two-three-and-a-jump  concern." 

Taylor  laughed.  "  It  is  a  two-step.  What  we 
know  as  the  polka  they  never  seem  to  have  heard 
of  out  here." 

"  I  thought  the  two-step  was  as  much  an  American 
institution  as  apple  pie  or  the  word  '  guess.' ' 

"  I  can't  say  as  to  the  pie,  but  you'll  find  '  guess  ' 
in  Shakespeare.  Come  and  have  a  glass  of  cham- 
pagne." 

"  No,  thanks.  I'm  going  to  have  a  try  at  the 
native  two-step.  Watch  me  capture  the  belle  of  the 
ball."  As  he  finished  speaking  he  darted  across  the 
room  to  Mercedes,  who  was  standing  with  flushed 
face  and  sparkling  eyes  by  the  side  of  her  father. 
She  was  looking  extremely  well,  and  foreign  enough 
to  be  decidedly  out  of  place  among  the  dusky  senor- 
itas  of  the  neighborhood.  Several  of  the  army  offi- 
cers, who  saw  her  for  the  first  time  that  evening, 
found  it  difficult  to  believe  that  she  was,  indeed,  a 
mestizo,  and  the  daughter  of  their  dark-skinned  host. 

Taylor's  were  not  the  only  eyes  which  followed 
her  with  an  admiring  gaze  as  she  glided  off  in  the 
arms  of  the  second  lieutenant.  It  was,  as  Paris  had 
said,  but  as  yesterday  that  she  had  been  a  child  to 

135 


DANIEL    EFERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

the  young  gallants  of  Silay  and  Bacolod,  and  more 
than  one  masculine  heart  was  stirred  as  its  owner 
saw,  for  the  first  time,  how  the  dainty  little  creature 
had  matured  and  ripened  into  womanhood. 

The  ball  progressed  very  much  after  the  manner 
of  such  functions  the  world  over.  It  was  after  the 
first  supper — no  less  than  three  heavy  repasts  were 
served  during  the  evening — that  Jose  Mispall,  hav- 
ing obtained  the  honor  of  two  successive  dances  with 
Mercedes,  persuaded  her  to  sit  them  out  with  him 
in  a  sequestered  nook  on  the  veranda.  That  he 
persuaded  her  more  easily  than  he  had  expected  to 
do,  was  due  to  the  fact  that  she  was  piqued  at  what 
she  chose  to  consider  Everton's  neglect,  for,  altho 
the  American  had  danced  with  her  several  times,  he 
had  done  so  with  an  air  of  abstraction,  from  which 
she  could  not  help  but  infer  that  his  thoughts  were 
elsewhere — as  indeed  they  were. 

She  had  grown  to  like  Everton  immensely,  and 
the  real  indifference,  which  she  believed  she  saw 

beneath  his  kindly,  considerate  manner,  hurt  her. 
<- 
She  was  too  simple  to  be  in  any  way  conscious  of  the 

racial  barrier  which  separated  them;; her  knowledge 
of  the  world  being  limited  to  the  world  of  Negros 
and  Manila,  and  therein  the  mixture  of  blood  was 
no  discredit.  Both  of  her  grandfathers  having  been 

186 


SENOR    ISIDRO    GIVES   A  BALL 

Spaniards,  it  did  not  occur  to  her  that  Everton  could 
regard  her  as  being  in  any  way  inferior  because  of 
the  darker  strain  of  blood  which  ran  through  her 
veins.  Indeed,  she  had  been  encouraged  by  her 
over-indulgent  parents  to  regard  herself  as  quite  an 
important  and  altogether  charming  personage,  and 
she  had  now  reached  the  age  when  she  felt  that  she 
was  entitled  to  a  little  of  the  gallantry  from  men  of 
which  she  had  read  so  much  in  books. 

Being  actuated  by  these  feelings,  she  accepted 
Mispall's  unconventional  invitation  in  the  hope  that 
Everton  would  see  them  and  awake  to  a  sense  of  the 
opportunity  he  had  wasted.  Everton  did  not  see 
them,  but  some  one  else,  did,  with  a  result  which 
changed  many  things  by  precipitating  an  event  which 
otherwise  might  never  have  come  to  pass. 

Senor  Paris  chanced  to  be  returning  from  a  hur- 
ried visit  to  his  kitchen  soon  after  the  pair  had  en- 

sconsed  themselves  upon  the  divan,  and  Mispall  had 
i 

begun  to  turn  the  conversation  into  personal  chan- 
nels— something  at  which  he  was  an  adept.  The 
old  man  stopped  abruptly  as  he  caught  sight  of  them, 
and  stood  watching  for  some  time,  startled  not  a 
little  at  the  spectacle  of  his  daughter  enjoying  a  tete- 
a-tete  with  a  man,  and  a  man  of  whom  he  thought  as 

little  as  he  did  of  Mispall.     Then,  just  as  Jose,  who 

187 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

believed  in  the  rapid  form  of  love  making,  was  lean- 
ing forward  and  attempting  to  possess  himself  of 
one  of  Mercedes'  hands,  he  came  forward  and  spoke 
quietly. 

"  My  child,"  he  said,  "  you  will  find  your  mother 
in  the  hall.  I  think  that  you  had  better  join  her 
there.  You  are  heated  from  the  dancing,  and  you 
might  catch  cold  out  here." 

She  was  too  unsophisticated  to  draw  any  inference 
from  his  words  or  tone,  and  such  a  thing  as  question- 
ing his  request  never  occurred  to  her.  So,  with  a 
shy  blush,  she  arose  and  preceded  them  down  the 
veranda. 

Mispall  made  a  self-conscious  observation  about 
having  availed  himself  of  his  old  friendship  for  the 
family  to  chat  with  one  of  its  most  charming  mem- 
bers— a  remark  which  fell  rather  flat  upon  Paris. 
As  they  started  to  follow  the  girl  to  the  ballroom, 
the  old  man  walked  at  a  snail's  pace  until  she  had 
disappeared  within  the  house,  and  then  said  casually, 
but  with  a  meaning  which  the  other  could  not  fail  to 
perceive :  "  We  must  not  be  selfish,  Jose.  Youth  is 
the  time  for  enjoyment,  and  the  young  like  best  those 
of  their  own  age.  Come  and  have  a  glass  of  wine 
with  me." 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  accept  the 
138 


SENOR    ISIDRO    GIPES   A  BALL 

situation,  which  Mispall  did  with  as  good  a  grace  as 
possible,  altho  he  resented  being  placed  in  the 
same  generation  with  Mercedes'  father,  being  him- 
self twenty  years  younger  than  Senor  Isidro.  He 
accompanied  his  host  to  the  dining-room,  and,  having 
lost  his  interest  in  the  dancing,  remained  there  for 
the  greater  part  of  the  night. 

Paris  returned  to  the  ballroom,  where  he  looked 
about  him  from  time  to  time  with  happiness  and 
pride.  He  was,  he  reflected,  a  very  lucky  man  to 
have  such  a  house  and  such  a  daughter.  This  was 
certainly  the  finest  ball  which  had  ever  been  given 
on  the  island  of  Negros,  and  (he  rubbed  his  hands 
gleefully  together  at  the  thought)  there  had  been 
few  to  equal  it  in  Manila  in  the  days  of  the  old 
grandees.  Life  had  indeed  prospered  with  him,  to 
be  the  head  of  such  an  establishment  as  this  and 
to  have  the  influence  and  prestige  which  were  his. 
Then  the  thought  of  his  future  plans  occurred  to 
him,  and  he  recalled  uncomfortably  the  scene  he 
had  witnessed  on  the  veranda  but  a  few  minutes 
before.  He  began  to  think  that  if  he  lost  any  more 
time  a  new  element  might  have  to  be  taken  into 
consideration — Mercedes  might  fall  in  love. 

He  was  happy  to  have  observed  that  she  had 
played  only  a  passive  part  in  the  little  scene  which 

189 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

he  had  so  heartlessly  interrupted,  but  playing  even 
passive  parts  under  such  circumstances  is  a  dangerous 
occupation ;  especially  in  a  land  where,  before  mar- 
riage, women  play  passive  parts  in  most  things.  Cer- 
tainly there  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  He  would  find 
an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  Everton  that  very  night 
after  the  guests  had  gone. 

It  was  near  sunrise  before  the  last  of  the  guests 
took  their  departure  and  rattled  off  down  the  drive- 
way as  fast  as  their  bulls  could  draw  them.  The 
night  had  been  oppressively  warm,  but  now  there 
crept  into  the  air  a  freshness  which  was  almost  sharp, 
and  which  was  fragrant  with  the  odor  of  the  earth 
and  foliage.  Suddenly  the  stately  game  roosters, 
which  strutted  about  the  house  by  day,  awoke  and 
began  to  crow.  They  continued  the  shrill  noise  for 
a  few  minutes,  and  then,  realizing  that  it  was,  after 
all,  not  yet  daylight,  they  desisted  and  went  to  sleep 
once  more. 

"  Come  out  here  for  a  while,"  said  Paris,  when 
the  last  guest  had  left  and  the  women  of  the  house- 
hold had  bidden  them  good-night  and  gone  to  their 
own  apartments.  "  I  have  something  of  importance 
to  say  to  you;  that  is,  unless  you  are  tired? " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  replied  Everton,  as  he  followed 
140 


SENOR    ISIDRO    CITES   A  BALL 

his  host  to  a  corner  of  the  veranda  overlooking 
Canaloan,  which  was  just  looming  up  behind  a  filmy 
veil  of  mist.  In  his  life  as  a  soldier  he  had  learned 
to  love  this  hour  of  dawn,  after  the  long,  hot  nights 
and  before  the  long,  hot  days.  As  he  looked  at  the 
distant  hills  he  thought  of  the  contrast  between  the 
night  he  had  just  passed  and  the  many  through  which 
he  had  lain  out  on  that  mountain-side  in  the  rain  and 
mud.  Then  he  thought  of  the  innumerable  little 
acts  of  kindness  which  Paris  had  shown  to  him  dur- 
ing the  past  months,  and  his  heart  warmed  toward 
the  old  man,  who,  taking  one  of  the  cane  chairs  and 
motioning  Everton  to  another,  began  to  speak. 

First  he  spoke  of  his  hacienda,  its  wealth  and  pos- 
sibilities, and  referred  to  the  years  of  toil  he  had 
put  into  the  business,  showing  how,  from  a  small 
beginning,  he  had  developed  the  immense  enterprise 
with  which  Everton  was  now  familiar. 

"  And  what  I  have  done,"  he  went  on,  "  is  as 
nothing  compared  to  what  may  yet  be  done.  To  a 
young  man  like  yourself  the  situation  offers  remark- 
able possibilities.  But  the  work  must  be  first  with 
you,  if  you  are  to  make  the  great  success.  I  have 
seen  men  of  the  European  races  come  out  here  be- 
fore. They  stay  ten  or  fifteen  years  and  make 

enough  out  of  the  country  to  live  on;  then  they  go 

141 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

back  home  again.  That  is  not  the  way  to  make  a 
great  fortune.  That  is  something  which  requires 
the  reinvesting  of  your  capital  in  the  same  enter- 
prises in  which  you  have  made  it — developing  the 
work  with  which  you  are  familiar  and  with  which 
you  have  succeeded.  To  make  a  great  fortune  here, 
you  must  have  your  heart  in  this  country,  and  this 
work.  If  you  are  to  be  forever  thinking  of  home 
you  will  never  accomplish  anything  great.  And  now 
I  must  ask  you  a  personal  question.  Is  there  any 
woman  in  your  case — any  one  to  whom  you  would 
be  forever  anxious  to  return  ?  " 

Everton  did  not  reply  immediately.  He  was  think- 
ing of  Constance  Fairchild  and  wondering  just  how 
to  answer  this  remarkable  question;  wondering,  too, 
why  the  old  man  asked  it.  He  thought  that  he  could 
safely  say  that  he  would  not  be  always  wanting  to 
return.  She  had  told  him  in  no  uncertain  terms 
that  she  could  not  marry  him,  because  she  did  not 
care  for  him.  That  had  been  two  years  ago,  and  he 
had  not  seen  her  since  or  heard  from  her  but  once. 
He  had  failed  in  the  great  desire  of  his  life,  and  that 
was  the  end  of  it. 

"  You  mean,  I  presume,  to  ask  whether  I  am  en- 
gaged to  be  married  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Paris,  who  had  grown  anxious  dur- 
142 


S£NOR    ISIDRO    GIPES   A  BALL 

ing  the  long  silence ;  "  that's  exactly  what  I  mean. 
Are  you,  or  do  you  expect  to  be,  engaged  to  be 
married  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Everton,  slowly.  "  I  am  not  en- 
gaged, and  I  have  no  expectation  of  being.  You  do 
not  ask  me " 

"  Whether  you  have  ever  fancied  a  woman  ?  No, 
I  do  not.  I  am  not  such  a  fool,"  continued  Senor 
Isidro,  hastily.  "  You  and  I  are  talking  of  business 
and  the  serious  affairs  of  life." 

He  then,  without  further  preliminary,  proceeded 
to  offer  Everton  a  half  interest  in  his  hacienda  and 
the  hand  of  his  daughter  Mercedes. 

To  say  that  the  young  man  was  amazed  would  be 
to  give  but  a  faint  idea  of  his  feelings  as  he  listened 
to  this  astounding  proposition,  and  for  the  moment 
he  was  inclined  to  the  opinion  that  the  old  man  had 
gone  suddenly  across  the  border  line  which  divides 
old  age  from  second  childhood.  He  had  expected  to 
be  offered  the  post  of  manager,  with  perhaps  the  hint 
at  a  future  interest  for  himself;  but  that  he  should 
be  offered,  at  the  outset,  an  interest  equal  to  that  of 
the  present  owner  was  something  of  which  he  had 
never  dreamed.  Unfortunately  there  was  a  condi- 
tion attached  to  the  offer  which  made  its  acceptance 
impossible. 

148 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

"  You  are  too  kind,"  he  said  slowly,  more  embar- 
rassed than  he  had  ever  been  before,  "  but  I  do 
not — "  He  hesitated,  searching  for  words  with 
which  to  reject  the  proposal  without  hurting  the  old 
man's  pride.  "  That  is,  I  had  not  thought  of  mar- 
riage." 

"  Naturally  not,"  replied  Paris.  "  And  I  do  not 
expect  or  desire  that  you  should  decide  at  once.  I 
have  thought  for  a  long  time  about  this,  and  it  is 
but  natural  that  you  should  think,  too,  before  de- 
ciding. My  daughter  will  make  you  a  good  wife, 
as  her  mother  has  made  me  one.  A  man  is  never 
contented  or  in  a  position  to  do  the  best  work  until 
he  has  married  and  settled  down.  In  such  a  life  as 
this  you  would  need  the  relaxations  of  marriage. 
Now,  if  you  marry,  it  is  of  the  greatest  importance 
that  you  should  marry  a  girl  to  whom  this  would 
be  home  and  who  would  not  be  continually  wishing 
to  go  back  to  Europe  or  America.  If  you*  married 
one  of  your  own  countrywomen,  she  would  not,  prob- 
ably, be  willing  to  live  in  the  Philippines." 

Everton  fell  silent  again,  for  he  could  find  no 
words  with  which  to  speak.  His  Spanish  seemed  to 
have  deserted  him,  and  the  three  words  "  Yo  no 
quiero  "  were  all  that  came  to  his  mind.  He  wanted 
to  impress  upon  Paris  the  fact  that,  in  his  opinion, 

144 


SENOR    ISIDRO    GIFES    A   BALL 

marriage  and  business  were  separate  departments  of 
life.  Of  course  he  could  not  tell  him  that  when  he 
did  marry  it  was  more  important  that  the  woman 
should  be  white  than  that  she  should  be  acclimated 
to  the  Philippines. 

"  It  is  a  serious  question,"  said  Paris,  "  and  one 
which,  of  course,  concerns  your  whole  life.  A  man 
who  decides  in  an  hour,  before  breakfast,  a  matter 
involving  all  the  future  years  of  his  life  is  a  fool; 
and  I  do  not  want  a  fool  for  a  son-in-law.  Take 
time  to  think  it  over." 

"  You  must  see,  Senor,  how  extraordinary  your 
offer  is,"  replied  Everton,  slowly.  "  I  feel  very 
grateful  for  the  honor  you  have  done  me — but " 

"  But  you  are  not  in  love  with  Mercedes — is  that 
it?" 

"  Yes,"  admitted  the  other,  reluctantly.  "  And 
she  is  not  in  love  with  me,"  he  added,  meaning  to 
soften  the  effect  of  the  ungallant  monosyllable. 

Paris  laughed,  and  turning,  placed  a  hand  on  each 
of  the  younger  man's  shoulders.  "  I  like  you,"  he 
said.  "  You  are  an  honest  man,  and  the  kind  of  a 
gentleman  one  does  not  meet  too  often.  It  often 
happens  in  this  world  that  two  men  need  each  other. 
You  and  I  are  in  that  position  now.  I  need  you, 

and  you  need  me;  I  expect  to  profit  by  this,  and  so 
10  145 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

shall  you — but  don't  expect  an  old  man  like  me  to 
talk  of  love  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  love,"  replied  the 
American,  smiling.  "  If  there  was  any  love  in  the 
case  it  would  be  different,  but — I  don't  see  what  you 
have  to  gain  by  this.  Why  do  you  need  me  ?  I  have 
no  capital,  no  experience,  nothing  that  you  need." 

"  You  have  honesty  and  a  good  heart,  and  I  like 
you,"  replied  Paris.  "  And  when  you  come  to  my 
time  of  life,  and  have  daughters  of  your  own,  you 
will  realize  that  there  are  things  which  a  man  values 
more  in  a  son-in-law  than  capital.  Now,  oblige  me 
by  dropping  the  subject  for  the  present.  There  is 
no  hurry." 

«  But " 

"  Is  it  too  much  to  ask,  that  you  give  it  a  week's 
consideration  ? "  exclaimed  Senor  Isidro,  with  just 
a  touch  of  impatience  in  his  voice. 

It  was  not,  certainly;  and  Everton  felt  that  he 
had  been  a  trifle  ungracious.  Under  the  circum- 
stances, an  immediate  answer  was  not  obligatory, 
and  he  could  at  his  leisure,  think  of  words  in  which 
to  frame  his  refusal. 

"I  will  do  so,"  he  replied,  hastily;  "and  in  the 
meantime  I  assure  you  that  I  appreciate  the  honor 
you  have  paid  me." 

146 


S£NOR    ISIDRO    GIFES   A  BALL 

"  Then  let  us  leave  the  matter  there,"  said  Paris. 
He  reflected  that  when  Everton  had  given  a  week's 
consideration  to  the  project  he  would  favor  it,  and 
he  liked  him  none  the  less  for  not  hastening  to  clinch 
the  bargain. 

"  Are  you  off  for  Iloilo  ?  "  he  added. 

"  Yes;  I  will  start  as  soon  as  the  lorcha  is 
ready." 

"  At  your  convenience.  The  boat  is  ready  now. 
I  gave  the  order  last  night." 

"  Then  I  will  start  as  soon  as  I  have  changed  my 
clothes,"  said  Everton,  briskly.  "  Good-night,  or, 
rather,  good-morning." 

He  hurried  to  his  room  and  quickly  put  off  his 
clothes,  after  which  he  had  a  cool  sponge  and  donned 
a  fresh  suit  of  white  linen.  In  ten  minutes  he  was 
ready  for  the  trip.  He  felt  as  refreshed  by  his  bath 
as  though  he  had  slept  all  night,  instead  of  spending 
it  between  the  supper  table  and  the  ballroom.  It 
is  a  remarkable  thing,  this  youth,  which  enables  a 
man  to  start  the  day  after  a  sleepless  night  with  a 
greater  vigor  than  that  of  a  man  of  fifty,  who  has 
slept  eight  hours.  He  opened  his  door  and  stepped 
out  into  the  hall.  Upon  the  big,  round  table  was  a 
steaming  coffee-pot,  and  by  it  stood  Senor  Isidro. 

"  Coffee  is  better  than  wine  to  begin  the  day  with," 
147 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  You  will  be  in  Iloilo  for 
breakfast  at  nine  o'clock,  if  this  wind  holds." 

The  old  man's  unfailing  thoughtfulness  in  little 
things  touched  Everton.  The  remarkable  offer  which 
Paris  had  made  to  him  a  few  minutes  before  had 
astonished  him;  but  even  that  was  not  as  remarkable, 
had  he  but  known  it,  as  the  kindness  which  the  fam- 
ily had  shown  him  from  the  beginning.  In  wanting 
to  marry  him  to  Mercedes,  Paris  had,  as  we  have 
seen,  been  actuated  by  motives  of  what  he  considered 
his  own  best  interest,  but  the  care  and  attention  which 
he  and  his  had  shown  to  a  sick  and  wounded  soldier, 
of  an  alien  race,  had  been  prompted  by  no  selfish 
motives. 

The  gray  of  dawn  was  in  the  room  as  the  two 
men  drank  their  coffee,  and  this  young  man  recalled 
that  other  morning,  when  he  had  entered  this  room, 
for  the  first  time,  in  the  arms  of  Sergeant  Cassidy, 
who  was  crying  over  him  like  any  woman.  A  great 
realizing  sense  of  what  he  owed  to  Paris  came  to 
him,  and  as  he  turned  to  go  he  held  out  his  hand, 
saying : 

"  Senor  Isidro,  I  am  fully  conscious  of  your  great 
and  unusual  kindness  to  me.  Some  day  I  hope  to 
repay  you." 

"It  is  nothing,  my  son.  I  like  you,  and  old 
148 


SENOR    ISIDRO    GIPES   A  BALL 

men  take  fancies,  sometimes,  as  well  as  young  girls. 
Buen  viaje !  " 

"  Adios !  "  said  Everton,  running  lightly  down  the 
stairs,  and  mounting  the  horse  which  was  to  carry 
him  to  the  dock,  off  which  there  was  just  light  enough 
for  him  to  discern  the  dim  outline  of  the  lorcha 
making  sail. 

149 


Chapter  X 
THE  MACTAVISH   BUNGALOW 

LOILO  lay  scorching  beneath  the  fierce  rays  of 
the  sun — or  rather  what  was  left  of  Iloilo 
after  the  insurgent  exodus.  The  few  houses 
which  had  remained  standing  when  the  retreating 
force  had  fired  the  town  threw  back  the  blazing, 
heated  light  from  their  corrugated  iron  roofs;  the 
white  highways  caught  it,  absorbed  a  part,  and  hurled 
the  rest  in  the  face  of  the  pedestrian.  The  dust, 
which  lay  thick  upon  those  white  roads,  was  caught 
up  by  each  lumbering  cariboo  cart  or  army  ambu- 
lance and  raised  in  a  thick  cloud,  which  hung  sus- 
pended in  the  dead,  stifling  atmosphere  for  many 
moments  after  the  disturbing  element  was  past. 
Block  after  block  of  ruined,  blackened  walls  aided 
the  streets  in  their  melancholy  task  of  indicating  the 
original  outline  of  the  town. 

The  Chinese — those  thrifty  money-seekers  who  are 
so  often  to  be  found  restoring  the  arts  of  peace  after 

the  ravages  of  war — had  moved  into  the  ruins,  estab- 

150 


THE    M  ACT  AY  IS  H  BUNGALOW 

lishing  their  shops  for  the  sale  of  general  merchan- 
dise under  temporary  roofs  and  within  the  blackened 
walls. 

It  was  a  day  when  natives,  who  had  been  born 
and  raised  under  that  fierce,  tropical  sun,  would 
slink  along  the  street,  keeping  carefully  within  the 
shade  of  the  ruined  walls,  while  American  soldiers, 
just  out  from  home,  exposed  themselves  recklessly 
in  the  Plaza — "  out  shopping  for  experience,"  as 
Everton  tersely  expressed  it. 

An  American  army  mule,  his  long  ears  drooping 
from  the  heat,  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  street  which 
runs  along  the  river  front.  It  was  such  heat  as 
sometimes,  within  a  few  hours,  drives  men  mad  from 
thirst;  such  heat  as  Everton  had  not  experienced  in 
all  the  months  he  had  spent  on  Negros.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  by  crossing  the  narrow  Straits  that  morn- 
ing he  had  come  into  a  different  zone. 

The  little  veranda  overhanging  Calle  Real  was 
the  only  place  which  seemed  to  offer  any  shelter  or 
coolness,  and  it  belonged  to  the  one  dwelling-house 
on  the  street,  the  other  buildings  being  offices,  ware- 
houses, and  "  godowns."  It  chanced  that  when  the 
flames  had  swept  over  Hoilo  they  had  overlooked  that 
portion  of  the  town  which  extended  from  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  Port's  office  to  the  Plaza.  A  score  of 

151 


D4NIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

offices  and  dwellings,  a  bank,  and  the  church  were 
left  to  show  that  the  town  had  been  only  common- 
place, as  Spanish  towns  in  the  tropics  usually  are. 

It  was  two  o'clock,  and  the  hour  of  the  siesta. 
Four  men  occupied  the  little  veranda — four  men 
who  had  gathered  there  from  four  distant  corners  of 
the  earth.  All  were  in  a  state  of  negligee  bordering 
on  the  undressed,  and  they  had  tiffined  as  well  as 
was  possible  in  Iloilo  in  those  days. 

There  was  MacTavish :  small,  Scotch,  and  kindly, 
with  a  slow  speech  and  a  quick  eye.  Johnson:  yel- 
low, bilious,  and  resigned.  He  had  come  East  for 
an  English  firm  eight  years  before,  and  never  spoke 
of  "  home  "  as  the  others  did.  Said  he  meant  to  die 
out  there,  and  drank  enough  whisky  to  indicate  that 
he  meant  what  he  said.  There  was  also  an  Amer- 
ican officer  named  O'Connor,  a  thin,  muscular  speci- 
men of  the  army  man,  who  could  never  by  any  chance 
be  taken  for  anything  but  a  soldier.  His  idea  of  a 
military  life  was  fighting,  and  he  had  in  his  heart  a 
strong,  half -concealed  contempt  for  all  men  who  had 
never  been  soldiers.  Everton  made  the  fourth,  and 
he  lay  at  length  in  a  cane  chair,  lazily  puffing  at  his 
perf ecto  cigar  and  watching  the  noisy  efforts  of  some 
native  boatmen,  who  were  poling  their  parao  slowly 
up  stream. 

152 


THE   MACTAYISH  BUNGALOW 

MacTavish  was  the  merchant  who  had  purchased 
the  season's  output  of  sugar  from  the  Paris  hacienda, 
and,  business  concluded,  he  had  insisted  on  Everton's 
remaining  to  tiffin.  The  Scotchman  had  spent  most 
of  his  life  in  the  East,  and  it  never  occurred  to  him 
that  business  could  be  carried  on  without  the  aid 
of  whisky-and-sodas,  tiffin  and  cigars.  Everton 
had  been  only  too  glad  to  accept  the  invitation,  for 
after  the  work  of  the  morning  he  was  beginning  to 
realize  that  he  had  passed  a  sleepless  night,  and  a 
pleasant  drowsiness  was  stealing  over  him. 

There  was  a  very  faint  breeze  down  at  the  river's 
mouth,  a  few  hundred  yards  away,  but  it  was  not 
strong  enough  to  reach  the  little  veranda,  on  which 
the  thermometer  registered  one  hundred  and  five 
degrees. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  MacTavish,  as  he  removed  his 
collar  and  threw  it  unceremoniously  onto  the  floor, 
"  why  Gawd  made  this  place?  " 

"  For  the  same  reason  he  made  some  men  fools 
enough  to  come  and  live  here,  I  suppose,"  replied 
Johnson. 

"  Drink  less  whisky  and  take  more  exercise,"  sug- 
gested O'Connor;  "  then  you  won't  feel  the  heat. 
Look  at  me." 

"  Ay,  look  at  him,"  said  MacTavish.  "  He  looks 
153 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

like  my  monkey  did  last  rains,  when  I'd  left  him 
out  in  the  compound  over  night.  He  was  near 
drowned  by  morning." 

The  perspiration  had  soaked  through  O'Connor's 
khaki  blouse  in  a  big,  dark  blotch.  "  All  right,"  he 
said,  "  look  at  me.  I  may  be  sweaty,  but  I  am  the 
most  contented  man  in  the  outfit  at  that.  You  civil- 
ians live  too  high.  Wait  till  you've  marched 
through  a  few  days  like  this,  with  no  water  and  no 
shade,  and  you'll  have  something  to  complain  about. 
Then  you'll  learn  how  to  appreciate  iced  drinks  and 
long  chairs." 

"  Which  is  another  way  of  putting  that  old 
woman's  philosophy  about  there  being  nothing  so 
bad  but  that  you  can  find  something  worse,  if  you 
go  out  and  hunt  for  it,"  retorted  MacTavish. 

"  Why  do  you  live  here  if  you  don't  like  it  ? " 
continued  O'Connor. 

"  Not  for  fun,  I  assure  you.  Why  are  you  here 
yourself,  may  I  ask?  " 

*  Because  I'm  stationed  here." 

"  So  am  I.  I've  a  commanding  officer  by  the 
name  of  Necessity.  If  I  had  money,  I'd  clear  out 
fast  enough." 

"  Shut  up !  "  said  Johnson.  "  You're  too  old  a 
stager  to  be  complaining,  MacTavish." 

154 


THE    MACTAVISH  BUNGALOW 

"  I've  wished  myself  dead  more  than  once  the  last 
year,  notwithstanding,"  said  the  Scotchman. 

"  Take  some  calomel,"  suggested  the  other. 

The  conversation  lagged,  for  there  is  nothing,  with 
the  exception  of  horse-racing  and  women,  which  will 
make  men  in  the  East  prolong  any  discussion  when 
the  temperature  mounts  above  a  hundred  degrees. 
During  the  long  silence,  MacTavish  dropped  off  to 
sleep.  His  cigar  fell  from  his  thick  lips,  hung  for 
a  second  in  his  gray  beard,  to  the  great  menace  of 
that  appendage,  and  then  landed  on  his  shirt.  John- 
son called  Everton's  attention  to  it. 

"Do  you  see  that?"  he  asked.  "Well,  he  does 
that  every  day,  and  has  ever  since  we've  lived  here." 
He  picked  up  the  smoldering  stub  and  tossed  it  into 
the  street.  "  Some  day  I  won't  be  here,  and  then 
he'll  burn  up.  Silly  ass !  " 

"  Who's  that  ?  "  inquired  MacTavish,  awakening  as 
suddenly  as  he  had  fallen  asleep. 

"  Referring  to  you,"  said  his  friend,  shortly,  re- 
lighting his  own  cigar,  which  had  gone  out.  "  If 
it  wasn't  for  me,  you'd  have  no  shirts  left.  You've 
tried  to  set  yourself  on  fire  again." 

"  I'm  obliged  to  you,"  said  MacTavish,  with  dig- 
nity. 

As  he  spoke,  one  of  the  windows  in  the  adjoining 
155 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

house  was  pushed  slowly  open,  and  a  very  much 
bedraggled  and  frowzy  head  was  thrust  forth.  It 
was  followed  by  a  pair  of  shoulders  incased  in  a 
soiled  Mother  Hubbard  wrapper,  beneath  which 
there  was  a  form  from  which  all  feminine  comeli- 
ness had  long  since  departed.  It  was  an  old  Span- 
ish woman,  who  seemed  to  regard  herself  as  so  much 
superior  to  the  natives  around  her  that  she  did  not 
trouble  to  keep  clean  or  tidy — reflecting,  no  doubt, 
that,  there  being  no  one  but  the  aforesaid  natives  to 
see  her,  the  effort  was  not  justified  by  her  surround- 
ings. A  tired  smile  illumined  her  fat  face  when  she 
saw  MacTavish,  and  she  bowed  slightly.  Then  she 
shouted  something  in  a  shrill  voice  to  a  little  mestizo, 
child,  who  was  playing,  half  naked,  in  the  street  be- 
low, and  drew  in  her  head. 

"  Who's  your  friend  ? "  asked  O'Connor. 

"  It's  the  Senora  Carmen,  who  owns  this  house," 
answered  MacTavish.  "  Have  to  keep  on  good  terms 
with  her.  If  I  didn't,  there  would  be  nothing  left 
in  the  house." 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  inquired  O'Connor. 

"  It's  the  Castilian  way  of  doing  business.  We 
rented  the  house  furnished  three  years  ago.  And 
it  was  furnished — when  we  moved  in.  She  came 
over  the  next  morning  and  borrowed  three  chairs 

156 


THE    MACTAYISH  BUNGALOW 

from  the  dining-room.  A  few  days  afterwards, 
when  we  were  out,  she  came  back  and  borrowed  the 
sideboard  without  asking  permission.  I  sent  word 
to  her  that  she'd  better  have  the  table  and  make 
the  set  complete.  I  thought  she'd  appreciate  the 
fine  sarcasm  of  it,  so  I  sent  Pedro  with  the  message. 
He  came  back  in  five  minutes  with  two  other  ser- 
vants, and  away  went  the  table.  The  laugh  was  on 
me  that  time.  Since  then  she  has  borrowed  most 
of  the  furniture  that  was  in  the  house  when  we  came, 
and  a  good  bit  of  what  we've  bought.  None  of  the 
things  are  ever  returned.  And  besides  all  that, 
she's  raised  the  rent." 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  O'Connor,  who  had  an  Irish- 
man's eye  for  pretty  women,  "  why  Senor  Carmen 
went  to  the  trouble  and  expense  of  importing  that 
lady  from  Spain.  I  should  rather  have  had  a 
native." 

"  She  was  a  widow,  up  to  two  months  ago,"  an- 
swered MacTavish,  "  and  has  an  interesting  history. 
She  was  married  in  September  to  a  young  man  in 
Manila,  by  proxy." 

"  By  proxy  ?  "  inquired  Everton,  puzzled. 

"  Yes ;  she  down  here,  and  he  up  there.  She 
made  a  big  time  of  it — you  know  she's  very  rich — 
and  had  a  ball  after  the  ceremony.  Lloyd,  who  is 

157 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

in  the  cable  office,  was  best  man,  and  there  being 
no  groom  to  sober  up  for  the  ceremony,  he  got  full 
himself  the  night  before,  and  didn't  show  up  till 
the  church  part  was  over.  The  Senora  sent  up  a 
lot  of  money  to  bring  the  young  bridegroom — he  is 
twenty-five  and  she  is  sixty — down  from  Manila. 
That  was  two  months  ago,  and  he  hasn't  shown  up 

yet." 

"  What  you  might  call  a  gold  brick  investment," 
said  O'Connor,  putting  his  feet  upon  the  railing  and 
loosening  his  blouse.  "  I  suppose  he  is  off  taking 
a  honeymoon  by  himself  in  Hongkong." 

"  I  don't  wonder  that  she  looks  blue,  under  the 
circumstances,"  said  Everton.  "  Do  you  have  many 
marriages  like  that  out  here  ?  " 

"No;  not  many.  There  are  only  a  few  Spanish 
women.  Never  were  many  outside  of  Manila.  Most 
of  the  Spaniards  married  natives." 

"  Judging  by  the  Spanish  women  I  have  seen  out 
here,  I  would  rather  marry  a  native,  myself,  than 
one  of  them,"  yawned  O'Connor. 

"  Right  you  are,"  said  MacTavish.  "  If  a  man 
has  to  live  out  here,  he  might  do  worse  than  marry 
a  native.  I  know  several  fellows  who  have." 

"  How  did  the  marriages  turn  out? "  inquired 

Everton. 

168 


THE    M  ACT  APISH  BUNGALOW 

"  They  seem  to  have  turned  out  as  well  as  the 
average  marriages  do  at  home." 

"  I  should  think,"  said  O'Connor,  "  that  some  of 
these  girls  ought  to  make  pretty  good  wives." 

"  They  live  altogether  for  their  husbands,"  said\ 
Johnson,  "  have  a  child  every  year  for  twenty  years, 
and  then  die.     That  ought  to  be  devotion  enough 
for  any  man." 

"  I  don't  suppose  there  could  be  any  companion-  / 
ship  with  one  of  them,"  Everton  continued. 

"  If  it's  companionship  you're  after,"  retorted 
MacTavish,  "  you  had  better  go  and  live  in  a  club. 
Women  are  the  same  the  world  over.  Once  they 
get  married,  children  and  housekeeping  are  all  they 
care  about.  The  most  you  can  hope  for  is  a  good 
temper,  and  your  Filipina  has  that.  The  white 
man  who  marries  one  of  them  gets  a  devoted  wife 
and  is  the  head  of  his  own  house,  and  don't  you  for- 
get it.  That's  more  than  can  be  said  for  some  mar-  \ 
ried  men  at  home." 

"  You  know  a  lot  about  it — you  do !  "  sneered 
Johnson,  mixing  himself  another  whisky-and-soda. 
In  the  years  that  were  gone  Johnson  had  loved  a 
woman.  It  was  only  a  memory  with  him  now,  but 
it  is  not  a  bad  thing  to  have  such  memories,  and  to 

his  was  due  the  fact  that  Johnson  was  not  in  some 

159 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

ways  worse  than  he  was — which  was  not  saying  a 
great  deal,  after  all.  The  memory  was  accompanied 
by  a  great  respect  for  women,  as  such,  and  in  the 
arguments  with  MacTavish,  in  which  the  opposite 
sex  formed  so  frequent  a  subject  for  discussion,  he 
usually  found  it  incumbent  on  him  to  defend  the  sex 
in  general,  for  the  sake  of  that  memory. 

"  A  man  could  doubtless  be  very  happy  with  a 
Filipino  girl,  if  he  understood  her,"  he  said. 

"  Hear  the  man  talk !  "  said  MacTavish.  "  Was 
there  ever  a  man  that  understood  a  woman  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say,"  replied  Everton;  "  but  she  doesn't 
always  happen  to  marry  that  particular  one." 

"  Well,"  said  O'Connor,  "  I  wouldn't  mind  tying 
up  to  a  native,  if  I  could  find  one  with  a  big,  rich 
hacienda  and  half-a-dozen  town  houses  like  the  one 
next  door." 

"  If  the  by-proxy  bridegroom  doesn't  show  up,  you 
might  try  your  luck  with  the  Senora  Carmen.  She 
ought  to  be  in  just  the  mood  to  marry  again,  out  of 

pique,"  suggested  MacTavish. 

'*""** 

"  Did  you  ever  meet  a  native  woman  who  could 

talk — keep  her  end  up,  so  to  speak? "  inquired 
Everton. 

"  Well,  rather,"  replied  Johnson.     "  They  are  by 

no  means  the  playthings  you  might  suppose.      On 

160 


THE   MACTAVISH  BUNGALOW 

the  average,  they  talk  quite  as  well  as  our  women  do 
at  home."^] 

"  Oh,  come  off !  "  exclaimed  HacTavish,  becoming 
more  thoroughly  awake  than  he  had  been  at  any 
time  since  tiffin. 

"  It's  true.  You've  got  to  take  their  surround- 
ings into  consideration.  They  have  no  life  outside 
of  their  own  little  towns,  but  there's  precious  little 
goes  on  in  those  towns  that  they  can't  talk  about  as 
well  as  the  men." 

"  You  mean,"  said  Everton,  "  that,  having  no 
books,  theaters,  or  other  resources  of  the  outside 
world,  they  are  necessarily  narrow?  " 

"  I  might  put  it  that  way  if  I  was  writing  a  book 
on  the  subject,"  admitted  Johnson.  "  However,  if 
they  did  have  all  those  things  they'd  make  more  out 
of  them  than  your  women  do.  Why,  go  into  any 
of  their  houses;  you'll  find,  say,  fifty  books  in  the 
place,  and  almost  every  girl  in  the  house  has  read  all 
of  them.  Your  women  may  have  five  thousand,  but 
they  don't  read  any  of  them." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  our  women  ?  "  demanded 
O'Connor.  "  Do  you  mean  American  girls  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  them? " 

11  I've  been  in  the  States — came  out  that  way  last 
11  161 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

time.     I  spent  two  days  in  New  York  and  two  weeks 
in  Chicago." 

O'Connor  greeted  this  statement  with  a  derisive 
laugh,  in  which  Everton  joined.  "  You  may  not 
have  met  all  the  brightest  American  women  in  that 
time,"  suggested  the  latter.  "  I  know  several  who 
were  not  in  either  city  at  the  time." 

"  I  don't  say  that  I  did,  of  course,"  persisted  John- 
son ;  "  though  I  met  some  very  nice  women.  But 
I  know  one  thing,  and  that  is  that  a  Filipino  girl, 
who  had  had  the  same  advantages  those  girls  had, 
would  have  made  more  out  of  them." 
r  "  Education  and  advantages  be  damned !  "  said 
O'Connor,  positively.  "  Give  me  a  white  skin." 

"  Oh,  if  it's  beauty  you're  after,"  cried  MacTavish, 
"  the  native  women  average  up  a  lot  better  than  the 

whites." 
• 

'l  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it  ?     No  man  marries 

what  he  considers  the  '  average '  woman.  She's 
usually  the  only  one  of  the  kind  on  earth  for  him." 
"  What  are  you  men  arguing  about,  anyway  ? " 
asked  Everton,  looking  off  toward  the  Captain  of  the 
Port's  office  and  wondering  when  the  mail  would  be 
signaled,  for  there  was  one  due  from  the  United 
States.  "  Do  you  mean  that  any  one  of  you  men 

would  marry  a  native  ?  " 

162 


THE   MACTAY1SH  BUNGALOW 

"  MacTavish's  the  oldest,"  said  Johnson.  "  There- 
fore, let  him  be  the  first  to  speak." 

"  I  disclaim  the  seniority,"  replied  the  Scotchman, 
"  but  don't  mind  saying  that  if  I  was  a  marrying 
man,  and  had  to  live  out  here,  I  would  as  lief  marry 
a  native  as  a  white  woman — provided  I  liked  her." 

"  Put  in  a  few  more  conditions,"  sneered  Johnson. 

"  I  wonder  if  a  man  could  take  a  native  woman 
back  home  with  him,"  asked  Everton. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so.  If  there  was  nothing  the 
matter  with  her — leprosy  or  small-pox,  for  instance," 
replied  O'Connor.  "  There's  nothing  in  the  immi- 
gration  laws  to  prevent." 

"  I  mean,  would  she  be  received  in  society  ?  " 

"  That  depends  on  the  society,  of  course." 

"  Surely  you  get  my  point?  Do  you  believe  that 
now  that  we  have  taken  possession  of  these  islands 
we  will  look  upon  the  inhabitants  as  social  equals,  or 
regard  them  as  we  do  the  negroes  at  home  ?  " 

"  I  won't,  for  one,"  replied  O'Connor.  "  They're 
not  niggers,  by  a  damn  sight !  " 
L"  If  you'll  excuse  my  saying  it,"  interrupted  Mac- 
Tavish,  "  there's  no  telling  what  you  won't  do  with 
them.  You'll  go  to  one  extreme  or  the  other.  You'll 
treat  them  as  equals  or  else  as  niggers,  and  they  are 

neither  the  one  nor  the  other.     They  are  better  than 

163 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

any  of  the  Orientals — except,  perhaps,  the  Japanese 
— but  they're  not  the  equals  of  white  men." 

"  I  guess  we'll  learn  how  to  manage  them  fast 
enough,"  retorted  O'Connor,  who  was  nothing  if  not 
patriotic  and  imbued  with  the  utmost  confidence  in 
his  own  government. 

"  Shut  up,"  said  Johnson.  "  It's  too  hot  to  talk 
of  politics." 

"  It's  never  too  hot  to  show  a  man  the  error  of 
his  ways,"  replied  the  Scotchman,  "  particularly  a 
military  man.  They're  notoriously  pig-headed." 

Thinking  it  time  to  change  the  subject,  Johnson 
proposed  a  siesta.  "  Let's  start  the  punkah  and 
sleep  until  tea  time,"  he  said. 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  fellows  do  business  out 
here  ?  "  inquired  O'Connor.  "  Sleep  all  the  after- 
noon?" 

"  This  is  an  off  day,"  said  MacTavish.  "  There 
will  be  a  mail  in  from  Manila  to-night,  and  we  shall 
be  busy  enough  to-morrow.  Hello !  "  he  exclaimed  a 
moment  later,  rising  to  his  feet,  and  indicating,  with 
a  wave  of  his  hairy,  brown  hand,  the  signal  staff  at 
the  Captain  of  the  Port's  office :  "  Talking  of  the 
mail  boat,  there  she  is  now." 

The  others  glanced  up  in  time  to  see  a  little  black 

ball  creep  to  the  top  of  the  staff  and  hang  there, 

164 


THE    MACTAYISH  BUNGALOW 

swaying  in  the  breeze.  It  was  the  time-honored 
method  of  announcing  to  the  little  town,  that  news 
had  come  in  from  the  outside  world. 

"  Let's  go  over  after  tea  and  get  our  letters,"  sug- 
gested O'Connor. 

"  What's  the  hurry — expect  one  from  your  girl  ?  " 
asked  MacTavish. 

"  Possibly." 

"  Look  out,  or  you'll  have  my  experience." 

"What  was  that?" 

"  I  had  a  girl,  too,  when  I  first  came  out — more 
years  ago  than  I  like  to  think  of,"  explained  the 
Scotchman.  "  It  was  in  the  days  when  the  home 
mails  only  got  down  on  the  average  once  in  two 
months.  My  girl  forgot  to  write  one  mail,  and  I 
was  all  in  a  sweat  by  the  time  the  next  one  was  due, 
not  having  heard  for  four  months.  So,  when  the 
mail  was  signaled,  I  rushed  off  to  the  post-office  and 
stood  in  line  before  the  delivery  window  with  a  lot 
of  natives.  All  the  other  fellows  thought  I  was 
crazy,  naturally  enough.  What  I  got,  at  last,  was 
an  announcement  of  her  marriage.  No  letter;  just 
the  cold,  plain  facts.  Since  then  I've  never  loved. 
That's  the  story  of  my  life." 

"  Half  a  page  of  it,  you  mean ;  you  Lothario,  you," 
said  Johnson. 

165 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Speaking  of  women/'  said  Everton.  "  Isn't  that 
a  white  one  up  there  ?  " 

"  Where  ?  "  inquired  O'Connor,  becoming  of  a  sud- 
den very  wide-awake  and  interested.  "  I  haven't 
seen  one  in  a  year." 

"  Well,  here's  your  chance,  then.  Look  at  her. 
She's  coming  this  way." 

O'Connor  glanced  in  the  direction  indicated,  and 
beheld  a  dilapidated  little  victoria,  drawn  by  two 
horses  which  looked  as  though  they  had  but  recently 
been  captured  up  in  the  hills,  and  harnessed  with  a 
harness  which  was  composed  chiefly  of  rope,  having 
been  repaired  so  often  that  there  was  nothing  but 
the  repaired  parts  left.  The  little  turnout  came 
down  the  street  from  the  Plaza  at  a  rapid  pace;  so 
rapid  as  to  threaten  the  ramshackle  little  outfit  with 
a  fate  similar  to  that  of  the  celebrated  "  One-Horse 
Shay."  As  it  passed  under  the  veranda  on  which  the 
four  men  were  sitting,  the  occupant,  a  small,  thin, 
tired-looking  woman  of  uncertain  age,  looked  up  and 
bowed  wearily  to  Johnson. 

"  She's  the  wife  of  one  of  your  officers,"  explained 
MacTavish,  in  response  to  Everton's  inquiry,  "  and 
was  a  good-looker  when  she  came  here  three  or  four 
months  ago.  You  wouldn't  believe  it  now,  would 

you?" 

166 


THE   MACTAVISH  BUNGALOW 

"  She  does  look  as  though  she  was  on  her  last  legs/' 
said  O'Connor.  "  What's  the  matter?  " 

"  Nothing  in  particular — that  I  know  of.  Just  an 
example  of  what  the  climate  can  do.  Hell  of  a  place 
this!  " 

"  I  don't  believe  she  could  have  been  anything  re- 
markable when  she  came,  or  she  wouldn't  have  lost 
all  her  looks  in  that  time,"  said  Everton. 

"  Two  years  in  the  tropics  will  make  a  rag  of  the 
most  beautiful  woman,"  replied  Johnson. 

"  If  a  white  man  can  live  down  here,  why  not  a 
white  woman  ? " 

"  Because,"  said  Johnson,  who  took  it  upon  him- 
self to  answer  for  MacTavish,  since  that  individual 
had  fallen  asleep,  "  they  don't  drink  enough  to 
forget  the  climate,  and  have  nothing  to  do  but  think 
about  it  all  day.  Men  have  work  to  do." 

"  There  may  be  something  in  that,"  admitted 
Everton. 

"  There  certainly  is — especially  the  part  about  not 
drinking  enough,"  said  Johnson,  with  a  coarse  laugh, 
and  reaching  forth  a  trembling  hand  for  the  bottle 
of  Dewar's  Scotch.  "Have  some  more  whisky?" 

"  No,  thanks,"  replied  Everton,  unable  to  suppress 
a  slight  feeling  of  disgust.  "  I  can't  drink  with  you 

men." 

167 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Something  you'd  better  learn,  then,"  said  the 
other,  pouring  himself  out  a  four-finger  drink  and 
diluting  it  with  soda.  "  That  is,  if  you  mean  to  live 
in  the  East" 

Everton  made  no  reply  to  this  observation,  and 
before  long  the  whisky,  which  was  in  the  nature  of 
a  last  straw,  sent  Johnson  off  to  sleep.  His  head 
sagged  forward  onto  his  chest,  and  his  thin  frame 
seemed  to  shrivel  up  like  a  dead  man's.  He  was 
not  the  only  one  to  drop  asleep ;  O'Connor  soon  fol- 
lowed his  example,  and  MacTavish  was  already  dead 
to  the  world,  and  had  been  for  some  moments.  Ever- 
ton was  the  only  one  who  remained  awake,  and  he 
lay  back  in  his  long  chair  with  half -closed  eyes,  look- 
ing out  across  the  paddy-fields  toward  the  dome  of 
the  Jaro  church,  and  dreaming.  Whatever  the  na- 
ture of  his  day-dreams,  they  were  interrupted  shortly 
by  a  series  of  chocking  sounds,  which  issued  from  the 
great,  red  throat  of  MacTavish.  The  Scotchman 
was  snoring,  and  his  snores  were  both  aggressive  and 
appealing.  When  one  heard  them,  he  did  not  know 
whether  to  play  the  Samaritan  and  open  the  man's 
collar,  or  the  enemy,  and  throw  something  at  his 
bloated  face.  Between  his  snores  his  breath  came 
with  a  wheezing  sound  that  suggested  approaching 

dissolution. 

168 


THE   MACTAflSH  BUNGALOW 

He  was  not  an  attractive  sight.  Everton  glanced 
from  him  to  the  array  of  empty  whisky  and  soda 
bottles  on  the  table,  and  then  let  his  glance  fall  to 
the  floor,  which  was  littered  with  burnt  matches  and 
cigar  stubs. 

Suddenly  there  came  over  the  young  man  a  feeling 
of  disgust  that  was  strong  and  painful.  He  found 
himself  wondering  with  a  sort  of  terror  whether  he 
would  ever  come  to  be  like  these  men  if  he  settled 
in  the  Philippines.  If  this  was  what  life  in  the 
tropics  meant,  how  much  better  it  would  be  to  go 
home  and  starve  in  a  cold,  vigorous  climate  than  to 
remain  in  such  a  land  and  amass  wealth ! 

As  he  was  indulging  in  these  and  similar  reflec- 
tions, not  over-complimentary  to  his  hosts,  his  eye 
happened  to  fall  once  more  on  the  mail  signal.  It 
was  cooler  now,  and  it  occurred  to  him  to  steal  away, 
while  the  others  were  sleeping,  and  go  and  see  if 
there  were  any  letters  for  him.  Very  carefully  he 
arose  and  tiptoed  into  the  house  and  down  the  stairs. 
Leaving  word  with  the  muchacho  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  who  awoke  to  receive  the  message  and  fell 
asleep  again  to  forget  it,  that  he  would  be  back  for 
dinner,  he  left  the  house  and  strolled  slowly  up  to- 
ward the  post-office. 

When  he  reached  it,  he  walked  up  to  the  little 
169 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

window  and  asked  for  his  mail,  elbowing  his  way 
through  the  crowd  of  soldiers  who  were  idling  about 
and  waiting  for  the  afternoon  drill.  After  a  mo- 
ment's delay,  one  letter  was  handed  out.  It  was  in 
his  father's  handwriting,  and,  putting  it  into  his 
pocket,  he  turned  once  more  and  strolled  slowly  back 
toward  the  river. 

170 


Chapter  XI 
THE  PRICE  OF  A  REPUTATION 

HEKE  was  a  shady  little  retreat  down  at  the 
river's  edge,  not  far  from  where  it  lost  its 
muddy  waters  in  the  deep,  salt  blue  of  the 
harbor,  and  it  was  toward  this  spot  that  Everton 
turned  his  steps,  that  he  might  be  alone.  It  was  a 
picturesque  place,  under  the  crumbling  sides  of  a 
building  so  old  that  the  flames  had  scarce  thought 
it  worth  their  while  to  destroy  it,  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  time  and  neglect  were  doing  the  work  so  thor- 
oughly. Before  he  reached  it  the  sun  had  cast  a 
long  shadow  under  its  eastern  walls,  and  in  this 
grateful  shade  he  sat  down  to  read  his  letter. 

There  are  probably  no  two  persons  in  the  world 
who  would  receive  in  exactly  the  same  manner  a 
great  sorrow  or  a  great  joy.  Daniel  Everton  was  one 
of  those  men  who  are  led  instinctively  to  combat  a 
calamity  first  and  grieve  over  it,  if  need  be,  after- 
wards. Almost  before  he  had  finished  reading,  and 

before  sorrow  for  his  father's  dishonorable  act  had 

171 


DANIEL   EVERTQN,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

had  time  to  come  to  him  in  full  force,  as  it  did 
afterwards,  he  bent  all  the  energies  of  his  active 
mind  to  a  consideration  of  the  facts  and  an  attempt 
to  solve  the  problem  of  what  was  best  to  be  done. 

He  did  not  allow  any  feeling  of  grief  to  master 
him,  and  yet,  in  all  the  years  of  his  life,  he  had 
known  of  such  bitter  reading  but  once;  when  he 
had  opened  the  telegram  announcing  his  mother's 
death.  That  was  seven  years  before,  and  he  still 
recalled  at  times  the  anguish  of  the  moment. 

He  was  older  now,  and  his  sensibilities  were  not 
what  they  had  been  then,  but  the  blow  he  received 
that  afternoon  was  hard  to  bear.  Dishonor  was  one 
of  the  things  in  life  which  it  had  never  occurred  to 
him  to  prepare  for,  or  to  expect.  It  had  come  now, 
however,  or  would  come  shortly,  unless  something 
could  be  done  to  prevent  it. 

It  was  not  a  difficult  situation  to  grasp,  and  the 
facts  of  the  case  had  been  set  forth  with  conciseness 
and  precision  in  his  father's  letter,  so  that  they  were 
at  once  understood  and  absorbed. 

The  all-important  element  in  the  case  was,  that, 
unless  his  father  could  raise  in  some  magical  way, 
and  within  the  next  five  months,  the  very  consider- 
able sum  of  thirty  thousand  dollars,  he  would  be 

172 


THE   PRICE   OF  A  REPUTATION 

forever  ruined  and  disgraced.  It  seemed  to  Daniel 
Everton,  bred  to  consider  himself  the  future  inheri- 
tor of  a  handsome  fortune,  that  thirty  thousand  dol- 
lars was  a  small  sum,  for  the  want  of  which  a  proud 
name  should  be  dragged  down  and  an  old  man's  life 
wrecked;  but,  to  all  purposes,  it  was  as  bad  a  deficit 
as  ten  times  that  sum. 

The  son's  heart  was  full  of  pity  as  he  thought  of 
the  desperate  plight  of  the  old  man.  It  did  not 
occur  to  him  to  blame.  We  are  all  of  us  governed 
in  our  judgments  of  people  to  a  very  large  degree 
by  personal  prejudice.  Marshall  Everton  had  been 
a  good  father,  and  his  son  was  one  of  the  few  men 
fortunate  enough  to  appreciate  a  good  father,  before 
it  is  too  late  for  their  appreciation  to  do  anything 
except  fill  their  hearts  with  vain  regrets. 

As  he  thought  of  him,  there  came  suddenly  to 
the  son  a  mental  picture  of  what  the  father  had 
endured  during  the  past  year.  He  realized  all  at 
once  how  the  long  days  and  nights  had  been  passed 
— haunted  by  the  specter  of  dishonor  and  disgrace. 
As  though  by  some  mysterious  telepathy,  he  could 
see  his  father,  weakened  and  old  and  ill.  While 
the  two  men  had  not  lived  in  the  very  closest  sym- 
pathy which  is  possible  between  father  and  son,  they 

had  always  been  sincerely  and  quietly  attached  to 

178 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

each  other.  The  younger  man's  affection  had  been 
increased  by  two  years  of  development  and  self- 
denial,  for  there  is  nothing  like  hardship  and  failure 
for  strengthening  the  home  ties  and  bringing  out 
the  full  measure  of  a  silent  feeling.  The  love  of 
a  young  man  for  his  father  is  too  often  written  upon 
the  page  of  his  life  with  invisible  ink.  It  needs  a 
few  hot  tears  dropped  upon  it  to  bring  it  out  in  full 
legibility. 

As  he  thought  of  the  quiet,  self-contained  old  man, 
Daniel  Everton  knew  what  the  writing  of  the  letter 
had  cost.  He  allowed  his  thoughts  to  dwell  upon  the 
melancholy  picture  for  a  moment,  and  then  bent 
them  steadily  to  the  consideration  of  what  was  best 
to  be  done.  On  one  point  his  mind  was  already 
made  up;  he  would  save  that  father,  no  matter  what 
the  cost. 

Without  hearing,  his  ear  listened  to  the  washing 
of  the  tide,  as  it  rose  steadily  and  flooded  the  boggy 
paddy-fields  on  his  right  and  carried  the  current  of 
the  river  back  upon  itself  in  whirling,  seething  eddies. 
Without  seeing,  his  eyes  rested  upon  two  dirty,  sea- 
scarred  steamers,  which  lay  a  half  mile  out,  their 
flags  hanging  limply,  and  their  rusty,  patchy  sides 
cooking  in  the  sun.  Then  his  eye  traveled  on  over 
the  wooded  hills  of  Guimaras  until  it  rested  upon  the 

174 


Daniel    Everton   knew  what  the 
writing  of  the  letter  had  cost 


THE   PRICE    OF  A  REPUTATION 

far  off  violet  outline  of  the  mountains  of  Negros. 
There  it  lingered  and  sent  a  message  to  the  searching 
brain.  The  brain  received  it  eagerly  and  turned  it 
over — rejected  it,  and  then  took  it  back  again.  There 
was  nothing  unworthy  of  consideration  which  was 
not  in  itself  dishonorable,  and  the  case  called  for 
extreme  measures. 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  be  done,  and  that  was 
to  raise  thirty  thousand  dollars;  but  one  way  to  do  it, 
and  that  was  to  marry  Mercedes  Paris.  Her  father 
had  offered  him  a  half  interest  in  the  hacienda,  with 
his  daughter's  hand,  and  it  would  be  a  simple  matter 
to  borrow  on  such  security  the  money  needed  to  save 
Marshall  Everton's  good  name.  He  could  pay  it 
back  in  a  few  years.  The  very  simplicity  of  the 
arrangement  made  him  heartsick. 

And  then,  with  the  thought  of  marriage,  came  the 
memory  of  the  woman  he  had  loved.  It  seemed  a 
strange  fate,  that  this  girl  from  whom  his  father 
had  stolen — there  was  no  use  mincing  terms — should 
be  the  same  to  whom  he  had  offered  the  great  love  of 
his  life,  and  who  had  refused  it. 

His  mind  wandered  here,  and  he  found  himself 

wondering  how  she  would  feel  toward  him  if  she 

175 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

knew  that  his  father  was  an  embezzler.  The  agony 
of  the  thought  was  almost  past  endurance.  Was 
any  price  too  high  to  pay  that  this  knowledge  might 
never  reach  her  ? 

The  greatest  hope  of  his  life  had  been  for  a  mar- 
riage with  her.  He  had  failed.  That  was  all  a 
matter  of  the  past.  His  love  was  not  dead,  but  it 
was  subdued;  and  for  the  rest — there  was  duty,  as 
he  might  be  able  to  see  it. 

He  was  thirty  years  of  age,  which  is  not  old;  but 
which  is  also  not  young,  from  the  standpoint  of  a 
man  who  has  been  trained  to  no  regular  work.  He 
had  about  resolved  to  remain  in  the  Far  East  even 
before  this  last  blow  fell.  Was  it  not  better  to 
marry  the  gentle,  little  mestizo,  than  to  see  his  father 
dragged  down  to  ruin,  and  the  grave  ?  If  this  load 
was  to  be  lifted,  that  father  might  live  on  to  a  ripe 
old  age.  He  had  failed  to  get  the  One  Woman,  and 
as  far  as  his  personal  feelings  went,  nothing  mat- 
tered, anyhow — certainly  they  were  not  to  be  con- 
sidered in  the  face  of  this  appalling  alternative. 

He  need  never  return  to  the  United  States.  In 
the  Philippines  he  would  be  but  one  of  many  similar 
instances  before  long.  Must  the  old  man  be  crushed 
when  a  word  from  him  would  save  him? 

"  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother,  that  thy  days 
176 


THE   PRICE    OF  A  REPUTATION 

may  be  long  in  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God 
giveth  thee." 

Yes ;  it  could  be  done. 

Would  he,  if  he  did  this  thing,  and  sank  himself 
in  the  mire  of  such  a  marriage  to  save  another — 
would  he  be  acting  honorably  toward  the  other  per- 
son most  concerned — toward  the  girl  herself?  For 
a  moment  he  felt  as  tho  this  view  of  the  situation 
saved  him  from  the  fate  which  seemed  the  only  one 
left  open. 

No !  When  Mercedes  married,  her  father  would, 
in  all  probability,  arrange  the  matter;  and  if  not 
himself,  it  would  be  some  one  who  would  not,  per- 
haps, do  as  much  for  her  happiness.  It  seemed  to 
be  the  custom  of  the  race  to  arrange  marriages  in 
that  way,  and  she  would  be  better  off  as  his  wife 
than  as  the  wife  of — Mispall,  for  instance. 

(JHis  wife !  How  the  thought  sickened  him.  He 
ground  his  heel  into  the  sand.  Cassidy  would  call 
her  a  "  naygur."  Mrs.  Daniel  Everton — Senora 
Everton ! — with  bare  feet  in  straw  slippers,  and  hair 
smelling  of  cocoanut  oil.  Great  God!f 

He  thought  of  MacTavish  and  Johnson,  who  were 
even  now  waiting  for  him  to  come  in  to  dinner,  and 
12  177 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

recalled  their  conversation  about  native  marriages. 
Why,  under  the  circumstances,  and  since  he  was  to  be 
the  agent  of  destiny  merely,  had  not  God  given  him  a 
soul  like  unto  those  of  these  men  ?  They  would  con- 
gratulate him  when  they  heard  of  his  engagement, 
and  probably  envy  him  a  little.  And  his  own  world, 
if  it  remembered  him,  would  despise.  For  once  he 
was  thankful  that  it  was  a  world  which  finds  it  easy 
to  forget. 

When  the  sun  had  long  set  and  the  moon  had 
risen,  throwing  its  soft  light  over  the  harbor  and 
the  silent,  sleeping  town,  he  arose  and  turned  his 
steps  once  more  toward  the  MacTavish  bungalow. 

And  that  night,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
Daniel  Everton,  soldier,  gentleman,  and  winner  of 
the  Medal  of  Honor,  drank  deep  and  often.  And 
because  he  was  their  guest,  and  because  it  was  their 
nightly  habit,  anyway,  Johnson  and  MacTavish 
drank  with  him  until  they  had  left  him  far  behind, 
and  then  raced  each  other  down  the  road  to  drunken- 
ness until  they  neared  its  end,  and  were  relieved  by 
insensibility  from  going  any  farther. 

The  next  morning  there  sped,  by  land  and  sea,  a 

cable  message  to  New  York,  which  read :  "  Yours 

178 


THE   PRICE    OF  A  REPUTATION 

received;  will  send  thirty  thousand  within  six  weeks. 
Letter  explains." 

And  by  evening  there  came  back  over  the  wires 
the  most  singular  message  ever  sent  from  one  man 
to  another  across  the  earth.  It  was  unsigned,  and 
consisted  of  but  three  words,  and  those  three  were, 
"  God  bless  you." 

With  this  message  in  his  pocket,  and  the  courage 
of  self-sacrifice  in  his  heart,  Daniel  Everton  boarded 
his  lorcha  and  set  sail  once  more  for  Negros.  And 
in  his  heart,  in  addition  to  the  courage  before  men- 
tioned, there  was  a  very  black  despair. 

179 


Chapter  XII 

MRS.  CARTWR1GHT  MAKES  THE  TEA 

0,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Cartwright,  emphat- 
ically, "  I  certainly  should  not  want  a 
daughter  of  mine  to  marry  into  the  army." 
It  seemed  to  Mabel  Cartwright,  who  was  the  only 
one  in  the  world  that  could  disobey  her  mother's 
wishes  in  the  premises,  being  an  only  daughter,  and, 
indeed,  an  only  child,  that  there  was  little  immediate 
danger  of  her  marrying  into  the  army,  or  out  of  it. 
Mabel  was  twenty-nine  and  plain,  and  plain  girls,  as 
a  rule,  do  not  marry  after  thirty.  This  one  sighed 
gently,  which  was  her  customary  method  of  respond- 
ing to  her  mother's  forcibly  expressed  views.  It  was 
after  five  o'clock,  but  the  heat  was  still  sufficiently 
intense  to  take  the  animation  out  of  a  pretty  woman 
and  hope  out  of  a  plain  one. 

Constance  Fairchild,  to  whom  the  remark  had 
been  addressed,  paused  to  consider  it  before  reply- 
ing. "  Why  not  ? "  she  inquired  at  length,  taking 

a  biscuit  from  the  tin  on  the  table  and  carefully 

180 


MRS.    CARTWRIGHT  MAKES   THE   TEA 

blowing  off  a  red  ant  therefrom  before  putting  it  to 
her  lips. 

"  Simply  because  I  should  not  wish  my  own  ex- 
perience to  be  hers,"  rejoined  the  older  woman, 
deftly  extinguishing  the  alcohol  lamp  beneath  her 
Chinese,  silver  teapot,  and  searching  for  a  handker- 
chief with  which  to  grasp  the  hot  handle.  "  I  think 
that  every  woman  should  have  a  home.  I've  never 
had  one.  Since  I  married  Colonel  Cartwright,  we 
have  lived  in  forty  different  houses,  and  that's  no 
life  for  a  woman.  It's  all  very  well  while  you're 
young  and  the  romance  of  the  thing  lasts,  but  when 
you  get  on  in  life  it's  different." 

Constance  did  not  reply  immediately.  She  won- 
dered vaguely  whether  there  had  ever  been  a  great 
deal  of  what  her  cousin  termed  "  the  romance  of  the 
thing  "  between  Mrs.  Cartwright  and  the  compara- 
tively silent,  simple-mannered  Major. 

"  It  seems  a  bit  hard  on  the  army  officers — that 
theory  of  yours.  Some  of  them  have  really  given 
a  very  good  account  of  themselves  the  last  three 
years." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  If  army  officers  were 
compelled  by  the  Regulations  to  remain  single,  it 
might  prove  a  blessing  in  disguise.  If  a  man  has  to 

apend  his  life  in  God-forsaken  parts  of  the  earth, 

181 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

he  can  get  along  better  without  having  a  family  to 
worry  over." 

"  I  suppose  they  don't  always  consider  that,"  said 
Constance.  She  had  arrived  in  Manila  a  month  be- 
fore, and  in  that  short  space  of  time  no  less  than 
three  young  officers  had  besought  her  to  "  worry  " 
them  through  life. 

"  Young  men  are  not  given  to  considering  the 
matter  from  a  common-sense  standpoint,  in  the  army 
or  out  of  it,"  replied  her  cousin.  "  Dear  me !  "  she 
added,  "  these  ants  are  really  dreadful.  I  do  be- 
lieve there  is  one  walking  up  and  down  my  back !  " 

"  You'd  better  take  a  bath  in  kerosene,  mamma,'; 
suggested  Mabel.  "  It's  the  only  thing  that  seems 
to  do  any  good.  The  whole  place  is  swimming  in 
it." 

Mrs.  Cartwright  made  no  reply  to  the  suggestion, 
but  resumed  her  discourse  at  the  point  where  the 
bite  of  the  little  red  insect  had  interrupted  it. 

"  I  do  hope,  my  dear,"  she  said,  addressing  Con- 
stance, "  that  you  will  not  allow  any  romantic  ideas 
about  war  and  heroes  and  brass  buttons  and  all  the 
rest  of  it  to  influence  you.  I  should  never  forgive 
myself  if,  just  through  my  bringing  you  out  here, 
you  married  an  army  officer." 

Constance  smiled.  She  was  amused  at  the  idea 
182 


MRS.    CARTWRIGHT  MAKES    THE    TEA 

that  any  one  but  herself  could  be  held  responsible 
for  her  matrimonial  blunder,  if  she  made  one.  "  I 
am  somewhat  of  a  fatalist  in  such  matters,"  she  re- 
plied. "  When  my  time  comes — if  it  ever  does — I 
shall  marry  the  man,  whether  he's  an  army  officer 
or  a  priest." 

"  The  former  is  quite  as  much  out  of  the  question 
as  the  latter.  One  of  your  type  could  never  be 
happy  in  the  army.  You're  not  the  sort.  The  girl 
for  the  army  is  one  who  has  been  born  and  brought 
up  in  it,  and  who  could  never  be  happy  anywhere 
else.  There  are  girls  who  are  just  as  daft  as  that 
on  the  subject." 

"  A  girl  who  couldn't  be  happy  '  anywhere  else,' 
with  the  right  man  for  a  husband,  would  be  a  poor 
specimen,"  declared  Miss  Fairchild,  positively. 

"  You  are  too  literal.  I  hope  you  won't  put  any 
of  your  theories  into  practice." 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  I  had  expressed  any 
theories,"  replied  Constance,  smiling. 

"  Perhaps  not,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Cartwright, 
returning  the  smile  and  regarding  her  young  pro- 
tegee with  affection.  "  I  don't  think  you  are  the 
kind  to  be  affected  by  externals." 

"  Such  as  gold  eagles,  and  crossed  rifles  and 
things,"  suggested  Constance. 

188 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  No;  nor  silver  stars  either,  for  that  matter." 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are  rather  hard  on  the  service, 
mamma,"  protested  Mabel  Cartwright,  rising  and 
crossing  to  the  open  window.  "  If  army  people  run 
down  the  army,  I  don't  see  who  there  is  to  stand  up 
for  it." 

"  I  am  not  abusing  the  army,  my  dear,"  pro- 
tested Mrs.  Cartwright.  "  It's  a  very  necessary  in- 
stitution, no  doubt;  but  I  believe " 

"In  letting  some  one  else  belong  to  it?  ""inter- 
rupted Constance;  "is  that  it?" 

"  Some  one  has  to  carry  arms,"  said  Mabel.  "  For 
my  part,  I  am  proud  to  belong  to  the  army." 

"Bravo,  Mabel!" 

"  Thank  you,  Constance.  You  understand  how  I 
feel.  Mother  never  seems  to." 

"  Don't  abuse  your  mother,  my  love.  Mothers 
are  necessary  institutions  as  well  as  armies.  Per- 
haps yours  understands  you  a  little,  too." 

"  Forgive  me.  I  didn't  mean  to  be  rude,"  said 
Mabel,  seating  herself  on  the  window-ledge  and  turn- 
ing a  tired  profile  to  the  room. 

"  You  couldn't  be,  if  you  tried,"  said  Constance, 
gently,  laying  her  hand  on  Mabel's.  She  had 
crossed  the  room  to  where  her  cousin  sat  and  stood 
beside  her  watching  the  fishermen,  while  Mrs.  Cart- 

184 


MRS.    CARTWRIGHT  MAKES    THE    TEA 

wright,  who,  like  most  portly  people,  was  given  to  the 
excessive  absorption  of  fluids,  made  herself  another 
cup  of  tea. 

The  two  girls  were  in  marked  contrast,  and  this 
contrast  struck  Mrs.  Cartwright  with  a  painful  force. 
Miss  Fairchildwas  of  the  type  of  refined  beauty  which 
is  bred  in  cities.  There  is  a  beauty  of  the  plains,  too, 
but  Mabel  Cartwright  had  never  been  touched  by 
its  caress,  and  was  thin  with  a  wiry,  normal  thin- 
ness which  added  ten  years  to  her  age.  At  twenty- 
nine  she  might  have  passed  for  thirty-nine;  at 
thirty-nine  she  would  probably  look  no  older  than 
she  did  that  day.  '  T3orn  in  a  Western  frontier  post, 
she  had  all  her  life  ridden  as  a  man  rides  and  lived 
as  a  man  lives,  without  regard  to  weather  and  in 
close  contact  with  nature.  While  this  contact  had 
sweetened  her  spirit,  it  had  likewise  toughened  her 
skin.  A  woman  must  be  fair  of  feature  and  quite 
young  for  tan  and  sunburn  to  be  attractive,  and 
Mabel  was  neither. 

"  Will  either  of  you  girls  drive  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright, rising. 

"  I  don't  think  I  care  to,  for  one,  thanks,"  replied 
Mabel.  "  I  want  to  try  to  catch  a  little  of  the  color- 
ing of  the  sunset — if  it's  to  be  like  the  one  we  had 

last  night,  and  I  fancy  it  is." 

185 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Modest  creature!  "  observed  Constance,  handing 
her  a  drawing  block  from  the  table  and  picking  up  a 
couple  of  pencils.  "  I'll  sharpen  these  for  you." 

"  Thanks;  very  much.  Is  Mr.  Taylor  coming  to 
dinner  to-night,  mother  ?  " 

"  Captain  Taylor,  you  mean,"  corrected  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright,  who  studied  the  "  Army  Register  "  as  a  de- 
vout Catholic  priest  studies  his  rosary.  "  He  has  just 
been  promoted.  I  don't  know  whether  he  is  or  not. 
I  told  your  father  to  ask  him." 

"  What  sort  of  a  looking  man  is  he? "  inquired 
Constance.  "  I  knew  a  Mr.  Taylor  once — an  army 
officer." 

Mabel  paused  to  consider  before  replying.  "  He 
is  tall,  very  brown,  has  a  sandy  mustache,  and  al- 
ways hesitates  before  speaking;  very  much  of  a 
soldier." 

"  That's  the  one." 

"  Where  did  you  meet  him  ?  "  inquired  Mabel. 

"  In  New  York,  several  years  ago." 

"  He  ought  to  be  flattered — to  know  how  well 
you  have  remembered  him,"  said  Mrs.  Cartwright. 

"  Oh,  no.  I  saw  enough  of  him  to  remember  him. 
He  has  a  very  decided  personality  and  one  which 
made  quite  an  impression  on  me."  This  was  no 
more  than  the  truth,  for  men  who  propose  to  women 

186 


MRS.    CARTWRIGHT  MAKES   THE   TEA 

usually  do  make  an  impression  on  them,  one  way  or 
another.  "  Has  he  been  in  town  long?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  only  a  few  days,  I  think.  He  has  been  serv- 
ing on  one  of  the  southern  islands — Negros,  I  think." 

"  He  will  find  Manila  wonderfully  civilized  by 
comparison." 

"  Probably  he  hasn't  seen  a  white  woman  since  the 
war  began,"  observed  Mabel. 

"  Perhaps  not.     What  time  do  we  dine  ?  " 

"  At  half -past  eight,"  replied  Mrs.  Cartwright, 
"  and  it's  getting  on  toward  seven  now.  I  must  go 
and  see  the  cook.  There  will  be  no  dinner  for  the 
hungry,  if  I  don't." 

"  There  will  be  none  if  you  do,"  retorted  Con- 
stance. "  I  have  taken  notice  of  that  cook.  He'll 
bear  letting  alone,  until  you  have  somebody  ready 
to  step  into  his  place." 

"  We'll  see !  "  observed  Mrs.  Cartwright,  posi- 
tively, from  the  door. 

"  How  I  wish  I  had  your  talent,"  said  Constance, 
earnestly,  noting  the  fearless,  vigorous  way  with 
which  Mabel  threw  in  her  color  and  drew  her  brush 
across  the  paper,  after  catching,  with  what  was  ap- 
parently just  a  turn  of  the  wrist,  the  hazy  atmos- 
pheric effect  behind  the  blue  outline  of  Corregidor. 
Mabel's  one  talent  was  painting,  and  she  did  it  with 

187 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

a  rare  ability.  She  possessed  the  double  art  of 
knowing  what  to  paint  as  well  as  how  to  paint  it. 
Because  few  artists  are  endowed  with  this  double 
ability,  many  of  the  finest  landscapes  in  nature  re- 
main unrecorded  upon  canvas.  Constance  thought 
of  this  as  she  raised  her  eyes  from  the  painting  to 
the  marvelous  beauty  of  the  scene  before  them. 

"  I  wonder  why  it  is,"  she  said,  "  that  artists  do 
not  travel  more  out  of  the  beaten  paths  ?  " 

"How  so?" 

"  There  is  so  much  out  here,  for  instance,  that 
ought  to  delight  an  artist.  Do  you  remember  that 
sunset  we  saw  near  the  Shau  Ting  pagoda  at  Shang- 
hai; with  the  temple  and  the  graves,  and  the  cold, 
red  light  of  winter  over  it  all? " 

"Perfectly.  Some  day  I  want  to  go  back  and 
paint  it." 

"  I  should  think  a  good  artist  could  find  enough 
subjects  like  that  in  China  alone,  to  keep  him  busy 
for  the  rest  of  his  days." 

"  Some  day,  some  artist  will  get  tired  of  land- 
scapes of  French  rivers,  with  poplar  trees  and  peas- 
ant women  in  the  foreground,  and  come  out  and  dis- 
cover China,"  said  Mabel.  "  It's  almost  impossible 
to  do  anything  with  this — the  light  changes  so." 

"  You  are  succeeding  so  well,"  replied  Con- 
188 


MRS.    CARTWR1GHT  MAKES   THE   TEA 

stance,  "  that  when  you  take  it  home  no  one  will 
believe  you  ever  saw  such  coloring." 

"  Look  at  that  queer  little  ship !  " 

Mabel  raised  her  eyes  from  her  sketch  and  glanced 
out  across  the  harbor.  "  Which  one  ?  "  she  asked, 
for  there  were  many  to  which  the  adjective  "  queer  " 
might  have  been  applied. 

"  That  little  one,  on  a  line  with  the  point  of 
Cavite,"  replied  Constance,  indicating  the  direction 
with  her  hand;  "  she  looks  like  a  Spanish  or  Italian 
tramp.  There's  a  character  and  an  independence 
about  that  ship.  She  suggests  the  '  Long  Trail.' ' 

"  She  does,  indeed,"  assented  Mabel.  "  Can  you 
make  out  her  name  ?  " 

"  Yes;  it's  the  I-s-l-a-  de,  the  Isla  de;  that  means 
Island  of.  The  Island  of  something;  Luzon,  most 
likely." 

"  Tablas,"  said  Mabel.  "  My  eyes  are  better  than 
yours.  The  '  Island  of  Tablas,'  wherever  that  may 
be." 

"  It's  a  little  island  just  north  of  Panay,"  said 
Constance,  who  had  of  late  been  studying  the 
geography  of  the  archipelago  with  more  than  ordi- 
nary interest.  "  I  wonder  if  she  comes  from  there  ?  " 

"No;  probably  not.  More  likely  from  Iloilo  or 
Cebu." 

189 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Constance  picked  up  from  the  table  in  the  center 
of  the  room  a  pair  of  Colonel  Cartwright's  binoc- 
ulars and,  adjusting  them  to  her  sight,  looked 
curiously  at  the  little  ship. 

The  great  majority  of  healthy  minded  people 
would,  if  questioned  on  the  subject,  scorn  to  acknowl- 
edge a  belief  in  telepathy.  Constance  was  no  excep- 
tion to  the  general  rule,  and  yet,  as  she  watched  the 
dirty  little  sea  wanderer  coming  in  from  her  voyage, 
she  suddenly  became  imbued  with  an  idea;  an  idea 
which  sent  the  blood  rushing  to  her  cheeks  and  made 
the  hand  which  rested  on  the  window-ledge  tremble. 
The  impression  she  received  was  a  startling  one,  and 
it  was  followed  by  a  remarkable  elation  of  spirit. 
"  Nonsense !  "  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  turned  from 
the  window  and  picked  up  a  book.  "  It  can't  be  so." 

Fate,  with  whom  rests  the  guidance  of  most  things, 
and  in  whose  hand  lives  are  as  the  pawns  upon  a 
chess  board,  was  engaged  in  the  task  of  bringing 
Constance  Fairchild  and  Daniel  Everton  together. 
The  impression  which  Constance  received  as  she 
watched  the  "  Isla  de  Tablas "  steam  slowly  on 
toward  the  mouth  of  the  river,  was,  that  the  person 
who  was  dearest  of  all  the  world  to  her  was  on 
board. 

And  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was. 
190 


Chapter  XIII 
THE   ARRIVAL  OF  THE   "  ISLA  DE   TABUS" 

HE  "  Isla  de  Tablas  "  pursued  her  course 
across  the  harbor,  passing,  as  she  steamed, 
the  ships  of  many  nations.  There  were  ships 
of  war  and  ships  of  commerce ;  big  ships  of  the  olden 
days,  four  months  out  from  Glasgow,  around  the 
Horn,  their  tall  masts  rising  above  the  short  steel 
ones  of  the  China  Sea  coasting  steamers,  like  spires 
of  a  church  above  the  dwellings  of  a  New  England 
town;  little  barks  which  plied  between  the  islands, 
carrying  sugar  or  hemp;  a  big  cruiser,  flying  the 
English  flag  and  holding  the  record  for  the  fastest 
trip  between  Manila  and  Hongkong;  a  tiny  little 
Japanese  gunboat,  fidgeting  about,  having  weighed 
anchor  with  no  apparent  reason  but  to  vomit  forth 
clouds  of  black  smoke  and  remind  the  big,  drab  war- 
ships of  the  United  States  navy  that  Japan  was  still 
progressing,  still  keeping  pace  with  the  Powers. 

Past  these  craft  and  many  others — for  the  harbor 
was  unusually  crowded  with  shipping  that  afternoon 

191 


DANIEL    E7ERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

— went  the  "  Isla  de  Tablas."  She  arrived  at  last, 
with  no  little  puffing  and  snorting,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Pasig  River,  grounded  upon  a  sand-bar,  swung 
around  with  the  tide,  and  rested — her  three  days' 
journey  from  Iloilo  accomplished  and  her  responsi- 
bilities at  an  end. 

In  view  of  the  nature  of  the  occurrence,  there  was 
remarkably  little  confusion ;  either  upon  the  deck  of 
the  "  Isla  de  Tablas  "  herself,  or  upon  the  decks  of 
her  neighbors.  Her  officers  occupied  easy  chairs 
upon  the  tiny  bridge,  well  protected  by  a  double  awn- 
ing, and  cursed  the  native  quartermaster.  Cursed 
him  in  moderation,  however.  They  did  not  con- 
sign his  soul  to  eternal  fires  with  relish,  as  an  Amer- 
ican would  have  done  under  similar  provocation. 
!Nbr  did  they  direct  their  observations  at  the  char- 
acters of  his  female  relations,  but  were  content  to 
remind  him  repeatedly  of  the  striking  resemblance 
he  bore  to  certain  animals  rather  low  down  in  the 
order  of  intelligence,  and  especially,  the  pig. 

Officers  and  crew  and  passengers  alike  smoked 
cigarettes,  discussed  the  state  of  the  tide  and  the 
probability  of  their  being  able  to  float  the  ship  that 
night.  The  women — there  were  several  on  board — 
had  packed  away  the  dirty  clothes  in  which,  for  the 
past  three  days  they  had  lived  and  slept  and,  to  the 

192 


ARRIVAL    OF   THE    "  ISLA   DE    TABLAS" 

serious  injury  of  said  raiment,  been  ill,  and  ap- 
peared upon  the  deck,  radiant  in  silk  and  peona 
finery.  The  men  had  exchanged  their  splitting 
headaches  and  "  malo  estomagos  "  for  clean  white 
shirts  and  new  black  derbies.  The  children — and 
there  were  many  of  them,  for  the  passengers  on  the 
"  Isla  de  Tablas "  had  in  no  wise  disobeyed  the 
Scriptural  injunction  concerning  fruitfulness  and 
multiplication — crawled  along  the  deck,  peering  out 
through  the  ship's  rail,  with  the  wondering  perplex- 
ity of  childhood,  at  the  other  ships,  and  the  lights 
which  were  just  beginning  to  twinkle  along  the 
Luneta  and  across  the  Bridge  of  Spain. 

One  of  the  passengers  stood  a  little  aloof  from  the 
others,  biting  impatiently  at  the  end  of  his  long 
cigar  and  looking  over  the  ship's  side  at  the  rapid 
current  of  the  river.  He  wore  a  suit  of  clean  white 
duck  and  the  soft  straw  hat  of  a  hacendero.  As  he 
turned  from  his  inspection  of  the  muddy  river 
toward  the  little  ladder  leading  to  the  bridge,  a 
Spaniard  with  bright  eyes  and  of  a  diminutive  stat- 
ure, which  was  in  keeping  with  everything  else  on 
the  "  Isla  de  Tablas,"  backed  down  it  and  turned  to 
greet  him. 

"  Can  I  get  a  sampan  ? "  inquired  the  passenger. 

The  mate,  who,  like  the  captain,  wore  no  uniform, 
13  193 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

replied  with  a  smile,  which  showed  two  rows  of  per- 
fect, gleaming  teeth  beneath  a  black  mustache,  and 
a  shrug  which  manifested  an  indifference  to  time  and 
events  which  might  have  put  an  Oriental  philosopher 
to  shame : 

"  After  a  little,  Senor  Everton,"  he  said.  "  You 
are  impatient  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  shortly.  "  I  have  busi- 
ness on  shore." 

"  Be  patient,  Senor.  I  have  a  young  sweetheart 
on  shore — and  I  am  patient.  Perhaps  even  now  she 
is  on  the  Luneta,  pining  for  me.  Who  knows  ?  " 

Being  unable  either  to  confirm  or  disprove  this 
last  supposition,  Everton  said  nothing.  The  mate 
yawned  and  stared  vacantly  at  the  tide,  which  was 
rushing  by  like  a  mill  race.  Perhaps  one  fluid  sug- 
gested another,  for  he  turned  to  the  American  and 
gave  him  a  second  glimpse  of  the  gleaming  white 
teeth. 

"  Beer  ? "  he  suggested,  in  a  tone  which  combined 
hospitality  with  the  anticipation  of  a  great  pleasure. 

"No;  thanks.  I  must  get  ashore.  Here  comes 
a  boat." 

"  Very  well;  since  you  wish  it,"  replied  the  other 
courteously,  as  a  small  dugout  came  scurrying  toward 
the  ship's  side,  propelled  by  the  muscular  brown 

194 


ARRIVAL    OF   THE   "  ISLA   DE    TABLAS" 

arms  of  its  owner;  "  but  you  had  better  make  your 
bargain  first." 

It  was  soon  made,  for  Everton  was  in  no  mood  to 
haggle  over  prices,  and  a  few  minutes  later  he  and 
his  luggage  were  landed  at  the  office  of  the  Captain 
of  the  Port.  He  had  brought  his  boy,  Pastor,  and 
leaving  him  to  arrange  the  details  of  its  transporta- 
tion, he  strolled  on  toward  the  Calle  Rosario  and  the 
Oriente  HoteL 

It  was  more  than  eighteen  months  since  he  had 
passed  through  Manila  on  his  way  to  the  south,  and 
he  now  found  many  changes.  He  did  not  notice  them 
at  first,  for  the  little  Chinese  and  native  booths  which 
lined  each  side  of  the  Calle  Rosario  looked  much  the 
same  in  peace  as  they  had  in  war,  but  when  he 
emerged  at  length  upon  the  Square  and  crossed  to 
the  arcade  of  the  Oriente  Hotel,  he  noticed  the  live, 
bustling  American  atmosphere  of  the  town,  which 
was  in  strong  contrast  to  the  sleepy  Spanish  one  he 
remembered. 

Just  as  he  was  turning  to  enter  the  big  portico  of 
the  hostelry,  he  was  brought  forcibly  in  contact  with 
a  man  who  was  issuing  therefrom,  in  great  haste, 
bearing  a  telegram.  As  the  stranger  stopped  he 
glanced  hastily  from  the  paper  and  apologized. 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  Everton,  courteously. 
195 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

The  man  looked  at  him  a  second  time,  with  the 
quick,  searching  glance  of  the  professional  news- 
gatherer  and  remarked  with  cordiality,  that  he  would 
be  damned. 

"  Will  you  ?  "  inquired  Everton,  regarding  him 
with  interest.  Then,  recognizing  him,  he  held  out 
his  hand  and  added,  "  How  are  you,  Charlie  ?  " 

Charlie  Howard,  special  correspondent  of  a  New 
York  daily,  returned  with  warmth  the  pressure  of 
his  friend's  hand.  "  Where  did  you  come  from  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  From  the  south,"  replied  Everton,  vaguely. 

"  Which  may  mean  anything  from  the  Pole  to 
Singapore,"  said  Howard.  "  I  heard  that  you  were 
in  the  army.  Have  you  been  discharged  or  com- 
missioned or  what  ?  " 

"  Discharged." 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?     Going  home  ?  " 

Everton  hesitated,  and  a  slight  flush  crept  over 
his  bronzed  face ;  a  flush  which  the  other  did  not  ob- 
serve, it  being  one  of  the  things  he  was  not  looking 
for.  "  I  am  interested  in  sugar  out  here,"  he  said 
at  length.  The  question  recalled  to  him  the  changes 
which  had  taken  place  in  his  life  since  the  days  when 
he  and  "  Charlie  "  Howard  had  known  each  other. 
He  wondered  what  the  other  would  say  when  he 

196 


ARRIVAL    OF   THE   « ISLA   DE    TABLAS" 

knew  that  "  home  "  to  him  now  meant  the  roof  of 
Isidro  Paris. 

"  What  are  you  doing  in  Manila  ? " 

"  I  came  up  on  business.  Only  arrived  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  put  up  ? " 

"  In  the  hotel  here." 

"It's  good  I  met  you,  then;  for  you  can't  get  a 
room  for  love,  money,  or  the  paper  you  represent. 
The  place  is  packed;  but  you  can  put  up  with  me. 
I'll  just  rush  over  to  the  cable  office  and  send  this 
message;  then  I'll  show  you  around.  Go  right  up 
to  my  room,  number  thirty,  at  the  head  of  the  stairs 
— don't  get  the  wrong  one;  there's  a  grass  widow  in 
twenty-nine — and  wait  until  I  come.  So  long." 

Everton  expressed  his  thanks,  and  Howard  hur- 
ried away  across  the  Square  to  the  cable  office.  A 
moment  later  the  former  found  himself  in  a  big, 
cheerless  apartment  which  boasted  two  cane  beds  and 
a  large  window,  fronting  on  the  Plaza.  Leaning 
out  of  this,  Everton  rested  his  head  upon  his  hand 
and  looked  down  at  the  scene  below. 

It  was  rapidly  growing  dark  and  he  was  just  able 
to  make  out,  indistinctly,  the  faces  of  some  Amer- 
ican women  who  were  strolling  about  and  carrying 
on  an  animated  conversation  with  the  three  or  four 

197 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

navy  officers  who  had  come  ashore  to  attend  the 
dance  at  the  hotel  that  evening.  He  watched  them 
curiously  for  a  moment,  and  then  threw  himself  into 
the  one  comfortable  chair  in  the  room  and  turned  to 
the  consideration  of  his  own  future. 

It  was  now  May  and  nearly  a  year  had  passed 
since  the  night  when  he  had  been  wounded.  As  he 
sat  there,  watching  the  warm,  cheerful  glow  of  his 
cigar — the  room  had  grown  suddenly  quite  dark — 
he  wondered  whether  he  wished  that  the  bullet  which 
had  come  so  near  to  ending  his  life  had  done  so. 
On  the  whole,  he  reflected,  he  was  glad  that  it  had 
not.  His  was  a  strong  temperament  and  not  given 
to  morbidity.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  rest  of 
his  life  might  be  made  worth  the  living.  It  was  his 
duty  to  make  it  so  in  any  event.  Having  made  his 
bed,  he  was  not  only  resolved  to  lie  in  it,  but  also  to 
make  it  as  soft  as  possible. 

His  marriage  had  been  somewhat  of  a  shock  to 
his  higher  nature,  but  it  had  been  one  in  which  his 
affections  had  not  been  in  any  way  involved.  He 
had  loved  one  woman  in  his  life  and  that  woman 
had  refused  him;  if  there  was  to  be  no  romance  for 
him  in  the  future  years,  there  might  at  least  be  some 
domestic  happiness.  After  all,  his  marriage  had  its 
advantages.  If  a  man  must  marry  for  anything 

198 


but  love,  it  was  better  to  have  a  gentle  little  creature, 
who  was  prepared  by  her  education  and  training  to 
remain  more  or  less  in  the  background,  and  who 
would  be  contented  to  be  treated  kindly,  than  to 
marry  one  who  would  deny  him  his  soul's  privacy, 
and  feel  that  she  had  a  right  to  share  in  all  his 
thoughts. 

His  love  for  Constance  Fairchild  was  not  dead,  and 
he  was  well  aware  of  the  fact;  but  two  years  had 
passed  since  he  had  seen  her,  and  those  two  years  had 
been  crowded  with  events.  He  found  that  even 
tho  it  still  existed,  that  love  could  be  beaten  down 
and  controlled  until,  at  length,  it  would  become 
but  a  memory.  In  the  future  the  keynote  of  his 
life  should  be  work,  and  such  hard  work  that  it  would 
leave  him  no  time  for  regret.  As  far  as  work  could 
fill  it,  his  life  promised  to  be  full  indeed. 

He  had  been  married  several  months,  and  already 
the  improvements  which  he  had  planned  had  been  in- 
augurated. Paris  had  virtually  retired  from  all 
active  participation  in  the  work  of  the  hacienda. 
The  machinery  which  had  been  ordered  from  the 
States  was  now  due,  and  it  was  with  a  view  to  seeing 
it  safely  on  its  way  to  ISTegros  that  Everton  had  come 
to  Manila. 

As  the  moments  passed,  he   drifted  off  into  a 
199 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

reverie,  from  which  he  was  recalled  to  his  present 
surroundings  by  the  return  of  Howard.  "  I'm  sorry 
to  have  kept  you  waiting  so  long,"  said  the  newspaper 
man,  as  he  entered.  "  I  was  detained  by  this  con- 
founded censor  business.  Had  some  trouble  in 
getting  my  stuff  through." 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  it  ? "  inquired  Ever- 
ton. 

"  Nothing  at  all;  it  was  simple  and  true,  but  didn't 
happen  to  indicate  that  the  war  was  over  yet.  It 
was  about  a  little  scrap  up  in  the  hills  in  which 
several  of  our  men  were  killed." 

"  I  don't  see  why  they  should  want  to  hold  up  news 
like  that." 

"Neither  do  I,"  replied  Howard,  rolling  up  his 
sleeves  and  pouring  some  water  into  the  wash-basin. 
"  I  want  you  to  dine  with  me  to-night." 

"Thanks;  very  much.  But  are  you  sure  that  I 
won't  interfere  with  any  of  your  plans  ? " 

"  Quite.  I  never  have  any  plans  which  the  ar- 
rival of  an  old  friend  can't  change.  I  want  to  hear 
from  you  about  the  southern  islands.  I'm  getting 
up  a  story  on  them,  which  the  chief  wired  for  the 
other  day.  He  wanted  me  to  go  down  and  study  con- 
ditions, but  didn't  say  anything  about  who  was  to 
take  my  place  up  here.  This  is  the  only  place  where 

200 


ARRIVAL    OF   THE   « ISLA  DE    TABLAS" 

anything  of  any  importance  is  to  be  learned;  so  I'm 
going  to  bone  the  article  from  Foreman's  book,  and 
such  men  as  I  can  find  who  have  been  there." 

"  Where  do  we  dine  to-night  ?  " 

"  There  isn't  much  choice.  There's  the  hotel 
here,  where  the  service  is  bad,  and  the  Paris  cafe, 
where  it's  a  little  better.  The  table  is  equally  poor 
in  both  places.  There  is  more  to  be  seen  at  the  Paris 
cafe,  so  I  think  we'd  better  go  there." 

"  What  time  do  we  start  ?  " 

Howard  looked  at  his  watch.  "  It's  nearly  eight 
now,"  he  said.  "  I  fancy  that  we'd  better  be  going 
at  once;  that  is,  if  you  are  hungry." 

"  I'm  as  hungry  as  I  ever  expect  to  be  in  this 
climate." 

"  Come  along  then." 

They  left  the  hotel  and  walked  leisurely  down  the 
street.  Howard  proceeded  to  ply  his  guest  with 
questions.  To  the  personal  ones,  Everton  replied 
briefly,  telling  of  his  discharge  and  simply  adding 
that  he  had  an  interest  in  a  hacienda  in  Oriental 
!N"egros,  and  hoped  to  make  something  of  it.  He 
said  nothing  about  his  marriage,  altho  he  mentally 
called  himself  a  coward  for  not  doing  so.  The  news 
would  reach  Manila  soon  enough,  he  reflected.  The 
newspaper  man  was  less  interested  in  the  particulars 

301 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

concerning  his  friend's  life  and  plans,  than  he  was 
in  the  political  status  of  affairs  on  the  southern 
islands,  and  so  Everton  had  little  difficulty  in  turn- 
ing the  conversation  into  impersonal  channels  and 
keeping  it  therein  until  they  reached  the  cafe. 

"  I  suppose  this  is  quite  a  lively  scene,  after  the 
country  you  have  been  accustomed  to,"  said  Howard, 
when  he  had  given  their  order. 

"  It  is  indeed,"  replied  Everton,  looking  about 
him. 

Their  table  was  on  a  veranda  overlooking  the 
Pasig  River  and  just  by  the  Bridge  of  Spain,  across 
which  little  carrametas  and  quilezes  darted  con- 
stantly, their  lights  swaying  and  reeling  in  a  half- 
drunken  fashion.  There  were  several  other  tables 
on  the  veranda,  and  all  but  one  were  occupied.  The 
exception  appeared  to  have  been  reserved  for  some 
party,  which  had  not  as  yet  arrived.  The  large 
dining-room  within  was  used  almost  exclusively  by 
Spaniards  and  mestizos,  who  smoked  continually  dur- 
ing dinner  and  drank  liberally  of  red  wine,  from 
musty,  black  bottles,  bearing  no  labels.  In  this  room 
there  were  also  a  few  enlisted  men,  on  pass  from 
their  regiments,  looking  as  spruce  as  possible  in  new 
khaki  uniforms  which  did  not  fit.  On  all  sides 
there  was  the  clattering  of  many  diners  and  the 

202 


ARRIVAL    OF   THE    "  ISLA   DE    TABLAS" 

shuffling  of  many  flatfooted  and  inefficient  mucha- 
chos,  who  collided  with  each  other  as  they  scurried 
about  the  room,  and  who  broke,  in  the  course  of  the 
evening,  no  little  china. 

"  Who  are  all  these  people  ? "  inquired  Everton, 
when  they  had  passed  the  fish  course. 

Howard  raised  his  eyes  from  the  wine  card  which 
he  had  been  studying.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  this  man 
at  the  next  table  is  the  representative  of  the  A.  P. 
The  one  with  him  is  also  a  newspaper  man.  He's  for 
a  syndicate,  which  doesn't  pay  him,  I  imagine;  for 
he's  always  trying  to  borrow  money.  You'd  better 
be  on  the  lookout  for  him." 

Everton  nodded.  "  What  you  might  call  a  jour- 
nalistic adventurer.  I  know  the  sort.  Every  pro- 
fession has  them.  But  why  is  the  A.  P.  man  paying 
for  his  dinner  ?  " 

Howard  laughed.  "  That's  an  unwarrantable  as- 
sumption," he  said.  "  It  isn't  always  the  man  who 
is  the  most  solvent  who  does  the  entertaining.  I 
loaned  this  chap  twenty  dollars  last  month,  and  that 
night  he  gave  a  dinner  party  to  five  men." 

"  Who  is  the  man  at  that  table  over  there;  the  one 
with  the  gray  side  whiskers  and  the  sack  coat,  with 
the  captain  of  infantry  ?  " 

"  He's  a  Congressman    from  one  of   the  south- 
208 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

western  States.  He's  out  here  studying  conditions. 
He  studies  the  canteen  question  in  the  cafe  of  the 
Oriente  Hotel,  I  imagine,  for  that's  where  he  spends 
the  greater  part  of  his  time.  I  interviewed  him  the 
day  after  his  arrival  on  his  view  of  the  Philippines. 
He  was  crammed  full  of  views  before  he  had  a 
chance  to  register  at  the  hotel.  I  managed  to  get 
material  for  a  long  cable." 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  want  to  cable  stuff  like  that 
for,"  said  Everton,  contemptuously.  "  I  wouldn't 
give  much  for  his  opinion  on  any  subject." 

"  Neither  would  I,  personally ;  but  we're  not  the 
great,  thinking  American  people.  The  first  thing  a 
journalist  has  to  learn  is,  that  when  he's  hunting 
opinions  on  anything,  the  view  of  a  well-known 
bishop  or  politician  who  knows  nothing  about  it  is  of 
more  interest  than  that  of  an  unknown  man  who  has 
made  the  subject  his  specialty.  It's  the  man  that 
counts ;  not  what  he  has  to  say." 

"  It's  remarkable  how  little  common  sense  there  is 
in  the  world,"  observed  Everton. 

"  True  enough.  Most  men  are  satisfied  with  bor- 
rowed opinions.  They  would  rather  put  up  with 
those  than  to  take  the  trouble  to  work  out  a  thing  for 
themselves." 

"  You  can't  altogether  blame  the  people  at  home 
204 


ARRIVAL    OF   THE   « ISLA  DE    TABLAS" 

for  being  somewhat  mixed  as  to  the  state  of  affairs 
out  here,"  said  Everton.  "  Each  of  the  papers  I 
have  read  gives  a  different  view  of  the  situation." 

"  Few  papers  are  independent  thinkers  in  these 
days,"  admitted  Howard.  "  Most  of  them  belong 
to  one  or  the  other  of  the  political  parties,  and  their 
views  are  prejudiced  accordingly." 

"  If  that's  the  case,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
your  calling." 

"  By  no  means,"  Howard  protested.  "  I  don't 
mean  to  say  that  you  can  hire  a  man  to  write  an 
article  on  the  moral  or  social  advantages  of  polyg- 
amy, of  course;  but  when  a  man  comes  out  to  a 
center  of  public  interest  like  this  he  has  it  in  his 
power  to  favor  either  side,  and  do  it  honestly.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  there  are  two  sides  to  every  question, 
and  the  man  who  starts  out  with  a  prejudice  in 
favor  of  one,  usually  finds  that  the  prejudice  in- 
creases rather  than  diminishes  as  time  goes  on.  The 
man  who  comes  out  here  for  an  anti-expansion  organ 
will  find  a  bad  climate,  bad  bed  in  the  hotel,  devilish 
bad  dinner,  bad  state  of  feelings  on  the  part  of  the 
natives,  mismanagement  of  the  war,  and  so  on.  In- 
deed, he  may  work  himself  up  into  thinking  that  he 
has  ruined  his  health  by  tropical  exposure,  and  goes 
home  with  a  chronic  tendency  to  fever.  If,  on  the 

205 


D4NIEL   EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

other  hand,  he  comes  out  for  a  paper  which  favors 
the  retention  of  the  islands,  he  will  make  the  best 
of  things  generally,  find  a  country  of  great  wealth, 
and  natives  who  are,  in  their  way,  a  very  decent  lot. 
He'll  go  home  and  write  it  up  as  a  valuable  acqui- 
sition to  the  country  and  a  fine  field  for  young  men." 

"  All  that  sounds  very  plausible,"  admitted  Ever- 
ton,  "  and  might  pass  muster  if  delivered  from  the 
pulpit,  where  no  one  could  answer.  But  it  isn't 
alone  on  questions  of  opinion  and  public  policy  that 
you  journalists  differ.  That's  to  be  expected.  You 
differ  radically  on  simple  little  questions  of  fact." 

"  You  blame  journalism  for  what  is  the  fault  of 
human  nature.  Pick  out  half  a  dozen  bishops  and 
send  them  to  look  at  a  dog-fight.  Do  you  imagine 
they'd  all  have  the  same  account  to  give,  when  they 
got  home  ? " 

"  I  should  hope,"  replied  Everton,  "  that  they 
would  have  the  decency  to  lie  about  it,  and  swear 
that  they  had  been  to  a  prayer  meeting." 

Everton  raised  his  glass.  "  Here's  to  the  capital- 
ist who  starts  a  newspaper  and  runs  it  on  strictly  non- 
partisan  lines;  who  combines  the  impartial  treatment 
of  some  of  the  magazines  and  weeklies  with  the  news- 
gathering  facilities  of  a  daily,  and  who " 

He  broke  off  suddenly,  and  set  his  glass  back  upon 

206 


ARRIVAL    OF   THE    "  ISLA  DE    TABLAS" 

the  table,  shaking  a  few  drops  on  to  the  cloth,  where 
they  mingled  with  the  gravy  stains  left  there  by  the 
last  diners.  His  face  grew  slowly  white  and  he 
shook  like  a  man  with  the  ague. 

"  Great  Heavens,  man !  What  is  it  ?  Have  some 
brandy?  "  cried  Howard,  in  alarm. 

"  No ;  "  said  Everton,  huskily,  moistening  his  lips, 
which  had  suddenly  grown  dry.  "  I — I'll  be  all 
right  in  a  moment.  Just  the  heat — don't — don't 
attract  attention." 

As  he  spoke  he  turned  his  head  slightly  so  that  his 
face  was  hidden  from  the  party  which  had  just  en- 
tered the  big  dining-room,  and  which  advanced  to- 
ward the  veranda. 

Captain  Taylor  came  first,  with  Constance  Fair- 
child,  and  they  were  followed  by  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Cartwright.  As  they  reached  the  unoccupied  table, 
they  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then,  as  Constance 
took  the  seat  which  faced  toward  the  harbor,  and  by 
so  doing  turned  her  back  on  the  table  at  which  the 
two  men  sat,  Everton  breathed  a  long  sigh  of  relief. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  a  remarkable  change  had 
of  a  sudden  taken  place  in  his  being.  The  heart, 
which  should  have  been  beating  was,  apparently, 
quite  still,  and  the  brain,  which  should  have  been 
still,  was  throbbing  with  the  regular  pulsations  of  the 

207 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

heart.  In  that  one  momentary  glimpse  of  her,  all 
the  love  and  pain  of  love  came  back  to  him,  and  he 
realized  that  they  are  the  two  things  in  life  which  no 
wise  man  will  say  he  has  conquered. 

Then  came  the  fear  of  being  recognized ;  if  not  by 
her,  by  Taylor,  who  sat  facing  him.  He  wanted  to 
be  away,  where  he  could  collect  his  thoughts  and 
gain  some  degree  of  mastery  over  his  feelings.  The 
longing  for  the  quiet  and  the  dark  which  comes  to 
men,  when  sorely  wounded,  came  to  him.  He 
thought  of  the  bare  room  at  the  Oriente  as  a  haven 
of  refuge. 

"I — I'm  in  danger  of  fainting,  if  I  stay  here," 
he  said,  controlling  his  voice  with  a  great  effort. 
"If  you  will  excuse  me,  I'll  find  my  way  back  to 
the  hotel." 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Howard,  promptly.  He 
had  paid  the  bill,  and,  rising,  they  sought  the  street 
below.  When  they  were  in  the  open  air  once  more, 
Everton  said,  apologetically: 

"  I  had  a  fever  last  fall ;  was  wounded  in  the  lung. 
Ever  since  then  I've  been  a  little  weak  at  times. 
But  I  don't  like  to  spoil  your  dinner,  Howard.  You 
needn't  come  to  the  hotel.  I  can  find  my  way  quite 
well  alone." 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  I've  had  all  the 
208 


ARRIVAL    OF   THE    <<  ISLA   DE    TABLAS" 

tough  chicken  and  frozen  beef  I  require  for  one 
night.     How  do  you  feel  now  ?  " 

"  Better;  thanks.     It  was  a  touch  of  heat." 
"  When  a  man  has  been  hit,"  observed  Howard, 
"  he  must  be  careful  not  to  overestimate  his  strength. 
Those  things  last  a  long  while  sometimes,  even  for 
life,  the  doctors  say.     You  had  better  be  careful." 
Everton  smiled  grimly  in  the  darkness,  but  as  they 
walked  down  the  silent,  deserted  Escolta  toward  the 
hotel,  he  agreed  with  him,  resolving  not  to  over- 
estimate his  strength  again. 


Mrs.  Cartwright's  native  cook,  with  whom  she  had 
had  the  altercation  that  afternoon,  had  been  the  un- 
conscious agent  of  destiny  in  bringing  about  the 
glimpse  which  Everton  had  of  Constance  at  the  Paris 
cafe.  As  his  mistress  had  not  yet  learned  the  futil- 
ity of  attempting  to  run  an  eastern  household  on  the 
same  economical  and  cleanly  lines  as  one  at  home, 
the  domestic  situation  had  reached  a  climax,  and  the 
cook  had  solved  the  difficulty  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
by  gathering  together  his  own  belongings,  with  a 
half-dozen  of  Colonel  Cartwright's  best  shirts,  and 
leaving.  His  departure  was  not  discovered  until 
late,  and  when  Taylor  arrived,  the  party  adjourned 
14  209 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

to  the  cafe,  leaving  Mabel  at  home  with  a  headache ; 
which  she  augmented  by  dining  off  a  box  of  choc- 
olates which  some  one  had  sent  her  from  the  States, 
and  a  few  sweet  biscuits. 

The  conversation  had  turned  upon  bravery  in  war, 
and  Colonel  Cartwright  had  availed  himself  of  the 
opportunity  afforded  him  of  relating  several  stirring 
anecdotes  of  the  Civil  War  and  Indian  campaign- 
ing. 

"  War  is  a  terrible  thing,"  mused  Constance, 
V  thoughtfully.  "  But  it  is  good  to  know  that  men  can 
do  such  things.  It  strengthens  one's  faith  in  human 
nature." 

"  It's  a  great  developer,"  said  Taylor.  "  It  brings 
out  the  best  in  a  man's  character." 

"  Or  the  worst,"  added  the  Colonel.  "  The  men 
who  do  the  fine  things  in  war  are  not  usually  the  ones 
who  need  the  development.  The  one  who  needs  it 
the  most  stays  at  home  and  doesn't  get  it." 

"  War,"  continued  Taylor,  "  is  a  great  Free- 
\  masonry.  It  binds  men  together.  Witness  how 
this  war  has  united  the  American  people." 

"  You  pay  them  a  poor  compliment,"  replied  Mrs. 
Cartwright,  "  in  saying  that  the  only  time  they  are 
in  close  accord,  is  when  they  are  fighting  some 

foreign  nation." 

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ARRIVAL    OF   THE   «  ISLA   DE    TABLAS" 

"  Nations  are  like  women,"  said  the  Colonel,  mis- 
chievously. "  Have  you  not  noticed  that  two  of  your 
sex  are  never  in  such  close  sympathy  as  when  they 
are  assembled  together  for  the  purpose  of  abusing 
a  third?" 

"  That's  all  nonsense,  Laurence.  Army  officers 
are  worse  gossips  than  their  wives." 

"  That's  because  the  wives  give  them  more  to 
gossip  about." 

Constance  hastened  to  interpose  a  remark.  She 
had  learned  from  experience  that  repartee  between 
her  relatives  left  an  aftermath  of  soreness.  "  What 
is  the  bravest  thing  you  ever  saw  done  on  the  field, 
Captain  Taylor  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Spare  his  blushes,"  advised  the  Colonel.  "  Per- 
haps he  did  it  himself." 

Taylor  laughed.  "  No ;  I  only  wish  I  had.  It  was 
at  Santiago.  I  was  hit  in  the  leg  and  couldn't  move. 
When  our  lines  advanced,  I  was  left  in  a  very  ex- 
posed position,  under  a  cross-fire.  One  of  the  men 
in  my  company  missed  me  and  came  back.  I  never 
saw  a  man  stand  under  such  a  fire  and  probably 
never  shall  again.  He  was  hit  in  two  places  before 
he  reached  me,  and  once  afterwards.  Then  he 
picked  me  up  and  carried  me  to  cover  in  a  ditch. 

He  got  the  medal  of  honor  for  it." 

211 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  What  became  of  him  ? "  inquired  Constance. 
"  Is  he  still  in  the  army  ?  " 

"  No.  He  was  discharged  last  fall  and  is  out  here 
now.  He  was  wounded  again  about  a  year  ago,  in  a 
little  skirmish  with  a  band  of  ladrones.  It  seems 
strange  that  a  man  could  go  through  a  day  like  that 
at  Santiago,  and  have  only  flesh  wounds,  and  the  one 
man  hit,  and  very  badly  hit,  in  a  little  brush  with  a 
dozen  or  so  of  these  fellows." 

"  What  was  his  name  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Cartwright. 

"  Everton.  Daniel  Everton.  He  remained  on 
the  hacienda  where  he  was  wounded.  The  native 
who  owned  it  afterwards  took  a  great  fancy  to  him 
and  made  him  his  overseer." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  Mrs.  Cartwright.  "  Isn't 
that  the  son  of  your  guardian,  Constance  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Miss  Eairchild,  simply. 

"  It  seems  a  strange  position  for  a  gentleman — 
overseer  on  the  plantation  of  a  Filipino,"  observed 
Mrs.  Cartwright. 

"  I  understood  from  what  he  said,  that  his  family 
had  met  with  financial  reverses,  and  that  it  had 
become  necessary  for  him  to  make  his  way  in  the 
world." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  "  Constance  inquired. 

"  I  don't  know.  On  Negros,  I  presume.  He  was 
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ARRIVAL    OF   THE    «  ISLA  DE    TABLAS" 

when  I  left  there,  for  Panay,  four  months  ago." 
Taylor  had  gone  to  Antigue  Province  soon  after  Ever- 
ton's  discharge,  and  on  his  promotion  had  come  direct 
to  Manila. 

"  I  liked  his  father  immensely,  what  I  saw  of 
him,  that  day  we  called,"  observed  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright. 

"  I  am  surprised,"  said  Constance,  "  to  hear  what 
you  say  about  his  having  lost  his  money.  I  had 
understood  that  he  was  a  man  of  considerable  wealth. 
It  seems  strange  that  I  should  have  heard  of  it,  in 
such  an  indirect  way,  and  out  here  at  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  so  to  speak." 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  during 
which  Colonel  Cartwright  looked  at  his  watch.  The 
other  diners  had  all  left  the  cafe  and  the  muchachos 
were  rolling  up  the  cloths  on  the  neighboring  tables 
and  showing  in  various  ways  that  they  thought  it 
time  the  party  went  home. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  be  going,"  said  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright,  rising. 

When  they  reached  the  Escolta  they  found  their 
carriages,  two  small  victorias,  awaiting  them.  Mrs. 
Cartwright  and  the  Colonel  entered  one,  despite  the 
delicate  manipulation  of  Constance,  who,  for  certain 
very  sound  reasons,  desired  to  avoid  being  alone  with 

218 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Taylor  during  the  long  moonlight  drive  to  Malate. 
In  this  she  was  defeated  by  the  denseness,  intentional 
or  otherwise,  of  the  older  woman,  and  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  accept  the  situation,  notwithstand- 
ing the  consequences  which  she  felt  it  entailed. 

"  It  has  been  a  great  happiness  to  meet  you  again, 
Miss  Fairchild,"  said  her  companion,  as  their  rickety 
little  trap  dashed  down  the  incline  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  Bridge  of  Spain  and  turned  into  the  big  cres- 
cent driveway  which  leads  to  the  Luneta. 

"  It  is  very  nice  of  you  to  say  so,"  replied  Con- 
stance. "  I  hope  we  shall  see  a  great  deal  of  you 
while  you  are  in  Manila.  You  must  come  and  see 
us  often." 

"  You  are  very  kind.  I  shall  certainly  do  so.  Shall 
you  be  here  long? "  he  added,  after  a  pause  which 
had  been  of  sufficient  duration  to  be  embarrassing. 

"  A  few  months,  I  think." 

"  Will  you  return  to  the  States  then  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  It  all  depends  on  Dick.  When 
his  contract  expires  we  are  going  home  by  India  and 
Suez." 

"  You  know,  he  and  I  were  stationed  together  on 
Negros — in  the  same  town,  for  several  months. 
Strange,  wasn't  it;  meeting  out  here  like  that?  " 

"Yes;  very.  You  will  probably  meet  him  again 
314 


ARRIVAL    OF   THE    « ISLA   DE    TABLAS" 

before  long.  He  is  coming  back  to  the  Second 
Keserve  Hospital." 

"  I  wish  he  would  take  the  regular  army  examina- 
tion," pursued  Taylor.  "  He  combines  the  soldier 
and  the  physician  as  few  men  do." 

"  I  am  afraid  Dick  will  never  settle  down  to  any- 
thing," she  answered,  with  a  slight  sigh. 

"  Will  he  practice,  when  he  leaves  the  army  ? " 
asked  Taylor,  who  was  thinking  of  something  else 
and  searching  for  words  with  which  to  bring  that 
something  else  forward. 

"  I  hardly  think  so.  I  am  afraid  Dick  is  no 
worker.  My  principal  hope  is  that  he  will  take  up 
some  specialty  and  study  it  in  a  scientific  way." 

"  I  should  prefer  general  practice,  if  I  was  a 
doctor,"  said  Taylor,  who  seemed  just  as  far  from  the 
topic  he  wished  to  introduce  as  he  had  been  at  the 
beginning  of  the  conversation. 

There  was  another  long  silence,  during  which  they 
turned  into  the  Luneta  and  drove  southward  toward 
Ermita. 

"  I  never  came  to  this  Luneta  without  thinking 
of  the  poor  fellows  who  were  shot  here  by  the 
Spaniards,"  said  Constance,  "  particularly  Risal.  It 
seems  strange  that  a  man  like  that  could  have  been 
deliberately  murdered  and  the  civilized  world  care  so 

215 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

little  about  it.  It  is  only  since  we  have  taken  these 
islands  that  the  people  in  the  United  States  have 
heard  of  him." 

"  Men  like  him  are  the  exceptions  which  show  us 
that  all  men  are  created  full  and  equal/'  said  Taylor. 
"  If  it  were  not  for  such  exceptional  instances,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  regard  the  Malay  as  the  equal  of 
the  white  man.  I  suppose  that  since  we  have  an 
instance  in  a  man  like  Risal,  we  can  assume  that 
the  whole  race  is  capable  of  enlightenment." 

"  They  will  have  their  opportunity  under  us.  It 
seems  strange  to  think  of  their  having  a  government 
like  ours  now,  when  only  two  years  ago  they  were 
under  the  heel  of  a  tyranny  which  could  shoot  down 
a  man  like  Eisal  as  tho  he  were  an  animal." 

Constance  thought  that,  as  long  as  they  were  dis- 
cussing the  future  possibilities  of  the  Tagal  race,  she 
was  keeping  the  conversation  within  safe  bounds,  but 
unconsciously  she  gave  Taylor  the  opening  for  which 
he  had  been  waiting.  It  was  not  a  very  wide  opening, 
certainly,  but  it  was  one  which  could  be  made  use  of, 
at  the  cost  of  being  a  little  precipitate. 

"  Time  does  make  changes — in  governments,"  he 
said,  "  but  there  are  some  things  more  unchangeable 
than  governments." 

"Indeed?" 

216 


ARRIVAL    OF  THE   <<  1SLA   DE    TABLAS" 

"  Yes,"  he  continued  in  a  tone  which  admitted  of 
no  misinterpretation — "  men.  Time  has  not  changed 
me." 

Constance  laughed  nervously.  "  I  should  be 
ashamed  to  confess  it,  then,"  she  said.  "  Don't  you 
think  we  all  ought  to  change,  year  by  year?  Don't 
you  believe  in  evolution  ?  " 

Her  effort  to  avoid  what  was  coming  was  unavail- 
ing. Like  most  men,  Taylor  was  unwilling  to  take  a 
hint  at  such  a  time. 

"  Change  does  not  mean  evolution,  necessarily. 
All  the  evolution  there  has  been  in  my  life  has  come 
through  my  love  for  you." 

Constance  was  silent.  She  would  have  liked  to 
have  spared  him  the  pain  of  the  second  rejection,  but 
he  had  refused  to  avail  himself  of  the  opportunity. 
A  man  of  readier  wit,  who  did  not  care  as  deeply  as 
he,  might  have  done  so. 

"  No,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  never  changed  in 
that.  My  love  for  you  has  grown  steadily  and  some- 
times I  have  felt  as  though  I  could  not  have  lived 
without  it." 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  so  sorry,"  she  said,  and  her  voice 
showed  the  words  were  true. 

"  Sorry  that  I  still  love  you?  " 

"  Yes,  since  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  return  it." 
217 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

He  drew  in  his  breath  and  held  it  for  an  instant. 
This  was  the  only  indication  he  gave  of  what  her 
words  meant  to  him,  who  had  lived  for  three  years 
in  the  hope  that  she  might  change. 

"  I  wish  you  could  understand  that,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  Isn't  it  unsoldierly  to  keep  on  fighting 
where  you  know  there  is  no  chance  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  a  set  look  coming  into  his 
face.  "  Not  as  I  understand  soldiering.  I  shall 
never  give  up  until  I  know  that  you  care  for  some 
one  else." 

As  it  was  only  moonlight,  and  as  her  face  was  in 
the  shadow  of  a  big  straw  hat,  he  did  not  notice  the 
quick  flush  which  crept  up  at  his  words. 

"  Is  there  any  one  else  ?  "  asked  Taylor,  unsteadily, 
noticing  that  she  did  not  speak.  It  is  singular  how 
calmly  a  man  puts  this  question  to  a  woman;  how 
coolly  he  demands  that  she  open  her  heart,  even 
when  she  has  told  him  that  he  has  no  place  therein. 

Constance  did  not  reply.  It  was  not  an  easy  thing 
to  confess,  that  secret  which  she  had  only  recently 
acknowledged  to  herself.  After  a  moment's  consid- 
eration Taylor  realized  that  he  had  placed  her  in  an 
unfair  position. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  had  no  right  to 
put  such  a  question.  All  I  ask  is  that  when  you  do 

218 


ARRIVAL  OF  THE  '<  ISLA  DE  TABLAS" 

care  for  any  one  else — you  will  tell  me  of  it.  That 
is  all." 

"  I  am  sorry/'  she  said  gently,  after  they  had 
been  silent  a  little  while ;  "  but  it  is  only  right  that 
you  should  know.  There  is  some  one  else." 

He  said  nothing  for  some  time,  and  then,  just 
as  they  reached  their  destination,  he  spoke  again. 
"  Thank  you,"  he  said  quietly,  and  with  those  words 
he  referred,  for  the  last  time,  to  the  one  romance  of 
his  life. 

There  was  nothing  in  his  manner,  as  he  bade  them 
a  conventional  good-night  at  the  door,  refusing 
Colonel  Cartwright's  invitation  to  come  in  and  smoke 
a  cigar,  to  indicate  that  anything  out  of  the  ordinary 
had  occurred  during  the  drive  home;  but  when  he 
left  them,  instead  of  going  to  the  hop  at  the  Oriente 
Hotel,  as  he  had  intended  doing,  he  lit  a  cigar  and 
walked  slowly  back  to  the  Luneta.  When  he 
reached  it  he  remembered  how  Constance  had  said 
that  she  never  crossed  it  without  thinking  of  Risal, 
and,  as  he  sat  wearily  upon  the  bench  near  the 
deserted  band-stand,  listening  to  the  sound  of  the 
waves,  he  came  near  to  envying  that  patriot. 

It  takes  some  time  to  bury  the  great  hope  of  a  life- 
time, and  by  the  time  Captain  Taylor  had  buried  his, 
the  first  notes  of  reveille  were  sounding  from  the 

219 


DANIEL   EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

portals  of  the  Quartel  de  Espagna  and  echoing  from 
the  gray,  mossy  walls  of  old  Manila.  There  was  a 
breeze  coming  in  from  the  west  to  meet  the  dawn, 
and  the  air  was  fresh  and  cool. 

The  clear  notes  of  the  call  struck  a  responsive 
chord  in  the  nature  of  this  man  who  was  all  soldier, 
and  he  arose  from  the  bench  on  which  he  had  passed 
the  night,  and  turned  his  steps  toward  the  town. 

220 


Chapter  XIV 
FORT  MALATE 

APTAIN  TAYLOK  was  not  the  only  one 
to  whom  thoughts  of  Constance  brought  a 
sleepless  night.  Back  in  the  close,  stuffy 
room  at  the  Oriente  Hotel,  Everton,  who  had  re- 
tired immediately  upon  his  return  from  dinner, 
tossed  about  on  his  cane  bed  until  the  dawn.  There 
was  a  fever  in  his  veins — a  fever  of  the  soul  which 
hurt  him  far  more  than  that  of  the  body  from  which 
he  had  suffered  the  year  before. 

Until  that  evening,  his  love  for  Constance,  while  it 
had  been  a  great  element  in  his  life,  had  never  passed 
absolutely  beyond  the  controlling  power  of  his 
reason.  When  he  had  asked  her  to  marry  him  three 
years  before,  he  had  loved  her  strongly,  and  had  be- 
lieved that  she  was  the  only  woman  with  whom  he 
could  be  happy.  But  when,  after  his  rejection,  he 
had  been  plunged  into  an  entirely  different  atmos- 
phere; when  his  character  had  been  tried  in  the 

321 


D4NIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

severest  of  all  schools,  he  had  come  to  realize  that  he 
might  live  his  life  without  her.  There  is  no  love 
which  seems  so  great  to  the  lover  as  the  one  which 
appears  hopeless,  and  now,  the  more  he  reflected 
upon  the  insurmountable  barrier  between  them,  the 
worse  his  fever  grew. 

During  the  early  hours  he  was  alone,  for  the  news- 
paper man  had  gone  into  the  big  dining-room  of  the 
hotel  to  take  part  in  the  dance.  Everton  had  sought 
his  bed,  that  being  the  easiest  way  of  getting  rid 
of  Howard,  who  would  otherwise  have  remained  for 
a  smoke  and  a  talk. 

As  he  lay  there  in  the  oppressive  atmosphere  of 
the  hot,  stagnant  night,  listening  to  the  music  and 
the  laughter  in  the  corridors  outside,  he  was  unable 
to  banish  her  presence  from  his  mind.  He  had  a 
painfully  life-like  and  vivid  mental  picture  of  her  in 
her  white  gown.  In  that  momentary  glimpse,  not  a 
single  detail  of  the  many  subtle  ones  which  go  to 
make  up  the  personality  of  a  refined  and  dignified 
woman  had  escaped  him.  She  was  the  first  attract- 
ive woman  he  had  seen  since  his  enlistment,  and  she 
was  the  one  he  loved.  It  was  what  Howard  would 
have  termed  a  "  knock-down  combination,"  and  the 
vision  had  burned  itself  into  his  memory  with  a 
strength  that  made  him  heart-sick. 


FORT  MALATE 


For  the  first  hour  or  two  after  he  retired,  his  mind 
was  a  chaos,  through  which  that  one  vision  passed 
again  and  again.  He  could  not  think  collectedly;  he 
could  only  know  that  he  loved,  and  loved  with  a 
strength  which  it  seemed  must  drive  him  mad.  And 
then,  with  the  thought  of  the  woman  whom  he  loved 
came  the  thought  of  the  other  to  whom  he  had  bound 
himself  for  life;  as  if  his  realization  of  Constance's 
charm  and  beauty  had  not  been  sufficiently  keen  and 
painful,  without  this  contrast  being  obtruded  upon 
him.  He  was  to  be  pardoned  if,  in  the  first  un- 
reasoning hours  of  that  night,  when  he  abandoned 
himself  to  his  love  for  the  one,  he  was  unjust  to  the 
other.  The  markedly  patrician  air  of  Constance 
recalled  the  fact  that  his  wife  was  of  mixed  blood. 
He  remembered  how  an  Englishman  in  Iloilo  had 
spoken  contemptuously  of  the  "  touch  of  the  tar 
brush  "  in  referring  to  one  of  the  mestiza  families 
there.  He  tried  to  picture  to  himself  what  Con- 
stance would  think  when  she  learned  of  his  marriage 
to  a  half-caste,  and  he  could  feel  the  stinging,  crush- 
ing force  of  the  contempt  with  which  she  would 
regard  him  when  the  time  came/)  Then  he  thought 
of  his  father,  and  with  that  thought  came  the  con- 
solation which  comes  to  all  men  in  their  hour  of 

doubt  and  trial,  if  they  are  able  to  reflect  that  their 

223 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

suffering  is  caused  by  no  fault  of  their  own.  It  is 
better  to  go  to  the  stake  as  the  victim  of  oppression, 
than  languish  a  single  year  in  jail  as  the  victim  of 
your  own  depravity.  When  he  recalled  how  his 
present  plight  had  been  brought  about,  something 
of  the  courage  of  self-sacrifice  came  to  him,  and  he 
grew  more  calm. 

Howard  came  in  about  two  o'clock,  and  Everton 
feigned  sleep.  The  newspaper  man  was  an  un- 
necessarily long  time  about  getting  to  bed.  He 
smoked  a  cigar,  hummed  the  fragment  of  a  tune,  and 
finally,  when  it  seemed  to  Everton  that  he  must  be 
ready  to  put  out  the  light,  he  took  a  drink  of  whisky 
and  sat  down  to  look  over  a  bundle  of  papers  contain- 
ing his  own  stories. 

He  got  to  bed  at  length,  a  half  hour  later,  and  once 
more  in  the  darkened  room,  Everton  directed  his 
aching  eyes  upon  the  ceiling  and  his  aching  brain 
upon  the  problem  which  confronted  him.  That 
problem  was  how  best  to  combat  this  new  element, 
which  had  suddenly  been  forced  into  his  life.  As  he 
gradually  regained  the  use  of  his  reasoning  faculties 
he  forced  himself  to  look  calmly  on  the  situation, 
and  to  outline  his  plan  of  action.  And,  as  is  often  the 
case  when  the  brain  takes  hold  of  the  problem  which 

has  been  overriding  the  heart,  he  found  that  his 

224 


FORT  MALATE 


reason  was  the  master  of  the  situation,  just  as  his 
emotions  had  Been  its  victim. 

After  all,  affairs  were  not  much  worse  than  they 
had  been  that  morning.  As  far  as  Constance  was 
concerned,  he  was  simply  unlucky  enough  to  love  one 
woman  and  be  married  to  another.  There  was 
nothing  so  very  novel  in  that.  Other  men  had  done 
the  same,  and  would  again  until  the  end  of  time. 
He  was  in  no  worse  a  position,  probably,  than  any 
other  man  who  loved  without  hope.  If  his  love  was 
a  painful  element  in  his  life,  he  would  fight  it,  that 
was  all ;  fight  it  as  he  would  any  other  painful  ele- 
ment. And  what  was  the  best  way  in  which  to  fight 
it? 

Somewhere,  within  the  reason  of  each  man,  there 
is  a  voice  which  is  heard  at  every  crossing  of  the 
roads.  It  tells  him  the  right  thing  to  do,  and  if  he 
followed  its  counsels,  he  would  be  less  apt  to  make 
a  havoc  of  his  life.  The  voice  is  not  always  per- 
sistent; frequently  it  speaks  but  once,  and  the  cause 
it  advocates  is  seldom  the  easiest  or  pleasantest  of 
those  from  which  a  choice  is  to  be  made.  It  is  the 
voice  of  the  Higher  Judgment,  and  it  tells  us  the 
right  course  to  steer  in  an  emergency. 

As  the  coolness  of  the  dawn  came  on,  and  the  first 

tinge  of  gray  crept  into  the  room  in  which  Daniel 
15  226 


DANIEL   EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Everton  had  fought  through  one  of  the  hardest  fights 
of  his  life,  this  voice  spoke  to  him  and  said :  "  Go — 
take  the  next  ship — south,  preferably;  but  anywhere 
rather  than  remain  here.  Run  away.  You  would 
not  expose  your  men  to  the  fire  of  an  enemy  unless 
you  had  some  object  to  attain — use  the  same  sound 
judgment  now.  Don't  see  her  again.  Go." 

And  as,  after  the  long,  hot  night,  his  mind  tired 
with  its  struggle,  he  heard  that  voice,  he  welcomed 
it  and  resolved  to  heed  it.  The  resolution  brought 
him  some  measure  of  peace,  and  he  fell  asleep  at  last, 
to  sleep  until  late  into  the  day. 


There  is  a  highway  which  leads  into  Manila  from 
Paranaque  and  the  other  towns  to  the  south.  It 
runs  near  the  bay  and  through  a  country  more  than 
ordinarily  pleasing  to  the  eye  of  one  who  loves  the 
tropics. 

At  about  six  o'clock  on  the  evening  following  their 
dinner  at  the  Paris  cafe,  Mrs.  Cartwright  and  Con- 
stance were  driving  slowly  along  this  highway  to- 
ward Malate,  having  come  in  from  Pasay.  They 
had  gone  there  at  the  suggestion  of  the  latter,  who, 
tired  of  the  Luneta,  had  felt  a  wish  to  be  out  in  the 
country,  where  she  might  drive  without  talking  and 


FORT  MALATE 


watch  the  sunset  to  the  accompaniment  of  her  own 
thoughts. 

They  had  been  of  Everton,  and  during  the  some- 
what desultory  conversation  she  had  carried  on  with 
her  cousin,  she  had  been  alternating  between  pride 
and  happiness  at  his  having  so  distinguished  himself 
on  the  field  at  Santiago,  and  sympathy  with  him  in 
his  present  financial  straits.  She  wondered,  inci- 
dentally, whether  she  should  find  him  much  changed, 
when  they  met.  Of  the  fact  that  they  would  meet, 
she  had  no  doubt.  There  had  been  no  question  in 
her  mind  as  to  the  quality  of  his  love  for  her;  she 
felt  instinctively  that  there  was  no  change  in  that. 
Then  she  thought  of  all  he  had  suffered  since  the  day 
when  they  had  last  been  together,  and  the  tears  came 
to  her  eyes  for  an  instant,  tho,  on  the  whole,  her 
reveries  were  happy  ones.  She  was  quite  content 
to  let  matters  rest  as  they  were  for  the  present.  Safe 
in  her  belief  in  his  love,  it  only  remained  for  her  to 
tell  him,  some  day,  that  she  returned  it.  In  the 
meantime,  the  happiness  of  anticipation  was  quite 
keen  enough. 

"  How  do  you  like  Captain  Taylor  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Cartwright,  suddenly,  breaking  the  silence  which  had 
lasted  since  their  horses'  heads  were  turned  toward 

home. 

227 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Very  much,  indeed.     Why  ?  " 

"  I  just  asked  the  question — that  was  all.  He 
seems  rather  quiet." 

"  Yes.     I  fancy  he  is  not  a  great  talker." 

"  They  say  very  smart  men  are  no't,  as  a  rule,"  ob- 
served Mrs.  Cartwright,  regarding  a  group  of  native 
children  through  a  lorgnette.  "  He  has  a  fine  repu- 
tation as  an  officer.  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  the 
theory,  myself." 

"  In  what  theory  ?  "  asked  Constance. 

"  In  the  theory  that  because  a  man  doesn't  say 
much  he  necessarily  knows  more  than  the  man  who 
does.  I  believe  that  being  able  to  talk  well  is  a  gift, 
like  singing  well  or  painting  well,  or  anything  else. 
Some  men  have  it  and  some  men  have  not.  Its  ab- 
sence doesn't  indicate  that  a  man  has  an  especially 
fine  intellect." 

"  It's  rather  a  fatal  gift  when  a  man  hasn't  the 
brains  to  back  it  up  with,"  observed  Constance. 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  replied  the  older 
woman.  "  Especially  when  one  has  to  entertain. 
An  idiot  who  can  talk  well  is  a  Godsend  at  a  dinner 
table,  compared  to  a  professor  who  doesn't  know 
how  to  open  his  head.  I  think  it's  disgraceful — the 
way  these  children  are  allowed  to  go  about  with  no 
clothes  on,"  she  added,  as  their  cochero  reined  up  to 

328 


FORT   MALATE 


avoid  running  over  a  naked  little  youngster  who  was 
playing  in  the  road. 

"  I  think  they  add  to  the  picturesqueness  of  the 
scene,"  said  Constance,  laughing.  "  It  is  really 
beautiful  out  here  in  the  country.  I  confess  I  don't 
care  much  for  the  town  of  Manila." 

"  It's  like  any  other  place  in  that  regard,"  said 
Mrs.  Cartwright.  "  The  Philippines  are  well 
enough,  left  to  the  Filipinos,  but  when  the  Span- 
iards came  and  mixed  in  their  style  of  architecture, 
they  ruined  the  landscape.  A  thatched  house  of 
nipa  looks  in  keeping  with  a  banana  grove,  a  house 
with  a  tin  roof  doesn't." 

"  It's  a  beautiful  country,"  mused  Constance.  "  I 
wonder  if  many  Americans  will  make  their  homes 
out  here."  She  was  thinking  of  Everton  again,  and 
wondering  what  plans  he  had  made  for  his  future. 

"  They  are  welcome  to.     I  shan't,  for  one." 

"  I  suppose  a  man  could  be  very  happy  in  this 
'  Pearl  of  the  Orient  Sea '  if  he  had  his  family  with 
him." 

Mrs.  Cartwright  smiled  somewhat  grimly.  "It 
depends  on  the  terms  he  might  happen  to  be  on — 
with  the  aforesaid  family,"  she  replied. 

"  Oh,  I  mean  a  normal  case,  of  course.  One  that 
was  happy." 

229 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  A  man  would  have  to  be  an  abnormal  case  of 
happiness  to  want  to  bury  himself  in  these  wilds, 
after  the  honeymoon." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  very  romantic." 

"  I  am  afraid  not,  my  dear,"  replied  her  cousin, 
closing  her  parasol  with  a  jerk.  "  I  am  fond  of 
nature,  of  course,  and  all  that,  but  there's  nothing 
that  palls  on  one  like  scenery,  when  you  have  nothing 
else." 

"  Oh ;  I  don't  agree  with  you." 

"  Very  likely  not;  but  you  haven't  had  my  experi- 
ence. You  have  lived  within  the  bounds  of  civiliza- 
tion. Towns  are  good  enough  for  me.  I  am  get- 
ting to  that  time  of  life  when  I  want  some  other  per- 
son's thoughts  and  activity  in  my  life.  I  had  a  good 
many  years  in  the  West  with  my  own.  The  only 
place  where  one  really  lives  is  a  great  city." 

"  It's  a  question  of  temperament,  like  everything 
else,  I  suppose,"  said  Constance. 

"  Undoubtedly.  Colonel  Cartwright  could  be 
happy  anywhere.  I  never  saw  such  a  man." 

"  Isn't  it  a  good  thing  to  be  born  with  a  tempera- 
ment like  that?" 

"  I  don't  imagine  that  he  was  born  with  it. 
It's  the  soldier — that  faculty — and  it  has  to  be 
acquired.  After  a  few  years,  endurance  changes 

280 


FORT  MALATE 


into  contentment.  It's  like  getting  into  any  other 
rut." 

Constance  could  not  help  thinking  that  the  soldiery 
point  of  view  was  one  to  be  admired.  "  I  think  that 
a  man  who  gets  into  a  happy  rut  in  life  is  to  be 
envied,"  she  said. 

"  In  my  opinion,  '  a  happy  rut '  does  not  exist. 
Variety  is  the  spice  of  life." 

"  There  is  such  a  thing  as  the  monotony  of 
variety,"  said  Constance,  thinking  of  the  very  ex- 
tended wanderings  she  had  indulged  in,  and  the 
great  variety  which  had  been  in  her  life,  and  think- 
ing, too,  that  she  could  settle  very  happily  into  the 
right  rut. 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  the  variety  of  monot- 
ony, however,"  retorted  Mrs.  Cartwright.  "  Activ- 
ity of  the  mind — that  is  what  you  want,  and  you 
can't  have  it  on  a  prairie;  unless  you  are  a  scientist 
and  collect  bugs,  like  that  man  at  the  Oriente 
Hotel." 

Constance  did  not  reply,  and  both  women  looked 
out  at  sea,  admiring  the  gorgeous  coloring,  and  each 
occupied  with  her  own  thoughts.  Constance's  took 
the  form  of  a  speculation  on  the  life  of  her  cousin. 
She  marveled  that  Colonel  Cartwright  and  his  wife 
were  not  in  greater  sympathy.  Both  were,  she  con- 

231 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

sidered,  very  admirable  characters  in  their  way,  and 
she  wondered  why  it  was  that  two  such  admirable 
characters  could  go  through  life  without  coming  to 
a  better  understanding.  She  wondered,  too,  with  a 
sharp  little  pang,  whether  it  was  true,  that  after  a 
few  years  devotion  settled  into  mutual  respect  and 
toleration.  Everything  she  had  read  or  heard  or 
observed  pointed  in  that  direction;  but  if  it  was  true, 
it  was  one  of  those  truths  which  her  nature  forbade 
her  to  accept  or  admit. 

Mrs.  Cartwright  was  in  many  respects  a  remark- 
able woman.  She  was  endowed  with  an  intellect 
which,  had  she  been  a  man,  would  have  enabled  her 
to  rule  men.  But  the  methods  by  which  women 
rule  men  are  different  from  those  by  which  men  rule 
each  other.  Not  being  possessed  with  a  knowledge 
of  a  woman's  methods,  Mrs.  Cartwright  had  begun 
her  married  life  by  attempting  to  rule  her  husband 
by  a  man's,  and  she  had  only  succeeded  in  worrying 
him.  Very  keen  perception  is  a  good  thing,  but  it 
does  not  justify  harshness.  The  fault  of  the  matter 
was  partly  nature's,  which  should  have  made  this 
woman  a  man,  and  partly  her  husband's,  who,  years 
ago,  should  have  pointed  out  to  her  nature's  mis- 
take and  persuaded  her  to  abide  by  it.  The  burden 
of  the  fault  was  borne  by  them  both,  in  that  they 


FORT  MALATE 


went  through  life  within  hailing  distance  of  the 
greatest  of  all  earthly  happiness,  and  did  not 
know  it. 

Whatever  Mrs.  Cartwright's  reveries  may  have 
been,  they  kept  her  silent  a  long  time,  and  the  little 
carriage  rattled  on  its  way  toward  Malate. 

It  was  followed  at  no  great  distance  by  another, 
in  which  sat  a  man,  with  his  hat  pulled  well  down 
over  his  eyes,  which  were  fixed  upon  the  inland 
mountains. 

He  had  spent  the  afternoon  in  a  drive  south  of 
Manila,  after  lunching  with  Howard  at  the  Tiffin 
Club.  He  had  met  several  acquaintances  there — 
men  whom  he  had  known  before  his  enlistment,  and 
who  had  drifted  to  the  Philippines  in  civil  and  mili- 
tary capacities.  The  renewing  of  old  associations 
was  not  an  agreeable  occupation,  under  the  circum- 
stances, and  it  was  to  avoid  meeting  people  whom 
he  knew,  especially  one  whom  he  knew,  that  he  had 
taken  this  long  drive.  This  design  was  destined  to 
be  frustrated  by  an  insignificant  incident,  and  a  meet- 
ing, which  his  calm  judgment  of  the  early  morning 
hours  had  counseled  him  above  all  things  to  avoid, 
was  to  be  brought  about  by  a  balky  horse. 

When  they  had  arrived  at  the  old  fortress  of 
Malate,  the  carriage  containing  the  two  women 

283 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

stopped  for  a  moment,  that  they  might  have  a  better 
opportunity  of  admiring  the  grim  old  structure,  in 
front  of  which  a  sentry  paced  to  and  fro.  When 
they  had  quite  satisfied  their  curiosity,  Constance 
told  the  cochero  to  drive  on.  lie  brought  down  his 
whip  with  a  resounding  noise  upon  the  back  of  each 
of  the  horses  alternately.  One  started  and  lunged 
forward,  but  the  other  planted  his  feet  with  a  grim 
determination  and  declined  to  be  persuaded.  After 
five  minutes  of  alternative  coaxing  and  chastisement, 
the  cochero  desisted,  and  sat  helplessly  upon  the  box 
awaiting  further  developments. 

"  Well,  this  is  awkward/'  said  Constance.  "  I 
wonder  what  we  had  better  do?  " 

"  Necessita  passar,"  observed  the  cochero,  looking 
ruefully  at  the  obstinate  pony. 

"  Out  of  the  question,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright,  indignantly.  "  We  can't  walk  two  miles." 

The  cochero,  judging  of  her  meaning  from  her 
manner,  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  began  once  more 
to  beat  the  horse. 

"  Stop  that !  "  exclaimed  Constance,  indignantly. 
"  It  isn't  doing  any  good." 

At  this  juncture  the  sentry  came  up  and,  laying 
aside  his  rifle,  attempted  to  lead  the  animal  by  its 
bridle.  When  he  found  that  his  efforts  were  un- 

234 


FORT  MALATE 


availing,  he  touched  his  hat  respectfully  and  said, 
addressing  Mrs.  Cartwright,  whom  he  recognized  as 
the  wife  of  an  officer,  "  I  guess  you'll  have  to  send 
the  nigger  in  town  for  another  rig,  ma'am.  It  looks 
like  this  here  horse  meant  business." 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  said  Mrs.  Cartwright,  fretfully. 
"  That  will  take  an  hour  at  least !  How  very  un- 
fortunate ! " 

"  There's  nothing  else  to  be  done  that  I  can  think 
of,"  said  Constance,  looking  up  the  long  stretch  of 
road  toward  Malate,  "  unless  we  walk.  I  think  I'd 
feel  safer  to  stay  here  with  this  soldier,  than  do  that. 
It's  fortunate  it  didn't  happen  a  mile  back." 

"  I'm  glad  you  find  something  fortunate  about  it," 
said  Mrs.  Cartwright,  looking  at  her  watch.  "  It's 
nearly  seven  o'clock  now,  and  we  dine  at  half  past." 

"  My  relief  comes  at  seven,  ma'am,"  said  the  sen- 
try. "  If  you  was  afraid  to  go  back  alone,  you  kin 
go  with  them." 

"  Thank  you,  very  much,"  replied  Constance, 
bestowing  upon  him  a  smile,  the  like  of  which  he 
had  not  beheld  for  many  months ;  "  but  I  am  afraid  it 
is  too  far  to  walk.  She  turned  idly  and,  looking  down 
the  road  toward  the  south,  beheld  a  carriage  rapidly 
approaching.  "  Perhaps  this  is  empty,"  she  added, 

hopefully,  pointing  it  out  to  Mrs.  Cartwright,  whose 

235 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

face  changed  instantly,  and  who  breathed  a  sigh  of 
relief. 

"  There's  a  man  in  it,"  said  the  sentry. 

"  If  it's  a  white  man,  he'll  give  us  a  lift,"  asserted 
Mrs.  Cartwright. 

"  An'  if  it's  a  nigger,  ma'am,  I'll  make  him,"  added 
the  soldier,  affectionately  stroking  the  barrel  of  his 
rifle  with  the  hard  palm  of  his  hand,  and  rejoicing 
mentally  that  he  was  in  a  position  to  render  an 
official  service  to  the  prettiest  girl  he  had  seen  since 
he  left  "  God's  country." 

It  was  now  dusk,  and  as  Everton  drew  up  he  failed 
to  recognize  either  of  the  women,  who  stood  back  in 
the  shadow  of  the  old  fortress.  He  did  see,  however, 
that  there  were  two  women — American  women — 
standing  by  their  empty  carriage,  and  that  they 
appeared  to  be  in  some  sort  of  difficulty.  So  he 
alighted  and,  advancing  to  them,  raised  his  hat. 

"  Have  you  met  with  an  accident  ?  Can  I  be  of 
any  service  ? " 

He  addressed  the  older  woman  and  looked  at  her 
as  he  did  so. 

Constance  had  not  recognized  him,  owing  to  his 
beard;  but  when  he  spoke,  her  breath  came  a  little 
quicker  for  an  instant,  during  which  Mrs.  Cartwright 
thanked  him  and  explained  the  situation. 


FORT  MALATE 


"  Let  me  offer  you  my  trap,  such  as  it  is,"  he  said, 
turning  so  that  he  included  Constance  in  his  gaze.. 
She  advanced  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Everton  ?  " 

Mrs.  Cartwright  and  the  soldier  on  post  saw  him 
take  the  outstretched  hand  and  bend  over  it,  but  they 
did  not  hear  his  reply,  because  he  dared  not  trust  his 
voice  to  make  one.  As  he  held  her  hand  in  his,  a 
wave  of  feeling  swept  over  him  and  drowned  his 
utterance.  The  sentry  shouldered  his  rifle  and, 
touching  his  hat  once  more,  paced  slowly  away, 
knowing  that  his  services  were  no  longer  required. 
And  Mrs.  Cartwright,  taking  due  note  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  two  had  forgotten  her  presence,  and  also 
of  the  length  of  time  her  cousin's  hand  remained  in 
that  of  the  newcomer,  raised  her  lorgnette  and  re- 
garded him  curiously. 

237 


Chapter  XV 
AN    UNSEEN  BARRIER 

T  was  after  dinner,  it  was  moonlight,  and  there 
was  a  cool,  fresh  breeze  coming  in  from  the 
China  Sea.  The  waters  of  the  bay  danced  and 
sparkled,  and  threw  themselves  playfully  upon  the 
hard  sands  at  their  feet.  The  night  was  soft  and 
balmy,  as  only  moonlight  nights  in  the  tropics  can  be, 
and  there  was  a  big  bush  of  ilang-ilang  growing 
near  by,  its  heavy  southern  fragrance  mingling  with 
the  faint,  salt  smell  of  the  sea.^j 

They  were  alone.  Despite  the  protest  of  his 
better  judgment,  he  had  accepted  Mrs.  Cartwright's 
invitation  and  remained  to  dinner.  In  doing  this  he 
gave  that  better  judgment  no  just  grounds  for 
offense,  for,  while  it  had  told  him  not  to  accept,  it 
had  not  suggested  any  reasonable  excuse  for  declin- 
ing. Even  that  time-honored  standby  of  a  "  previ- 
ous engagement "  had  not  occurred  to  him  until  it 
was  too  late,  and  it  is  one  of  those  excuses  which  have 
to  be  brought  forward  at  once  or  not  at  all. 

238 


AN    UNSEEN  BARRIER 


He  had,  therefore,  accepted  the  situation  and  re- 
mained; and,  being  there,  was  deriving  as  much 
happiness  as  possible  from  her  presence,  for  which 
he  had  longed  so  often  during  the  last  three  years. 
He  had  never  realized  before  how  long  three  years 
could  be. 

He  had  been  rather  silent  during  dinner.  Not 
because  of  embarrassment,  but  because  his  thoughts 
were  rushing  and  crowding  through  his  brain  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  leave  him  all  but  tongue-tied;  making 
impossible  any  active  participation  in  the  small  talk 
of  the  table.  Mrs.  Cartwright  had  noticed  his  ab- 
straction and  had  concluded  that  he  was  either  very 
much  in  love  with  Constance,  or  else  very  stupid. 
It  occurred  to  her  once  that  he  might  be  simply  shy, 
after  his  life  in  the  ranks,  but  a  second  glance  at  the 
grave,  composed  countenance  on  her  right,  showed 
her  clearly  that  this  was  not  the  case.  Whatever 
the  cause  of  his  abstraction  might  have  been,  it  cer- 
tainly was  not  due  to  any  embarrassment  at  finding 
himself  at  an  officer's  table.  Mrs.  Cartwright  was 
not  the  only  one  who  noticed  Everton's  manner. 
Constance  noticed  it  too,  and  from  it  drew  an  infer- 
ence which  made  her  strangely  happy. 

After  dinner,  they  had  quite  naturally  been  at- 
tracted to  the  garden,  with  its  moonlight,  its  foliage, 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

and  its  view  of  the  bay.  The  Cartwrights  and  a 
young  cavalry  officer,  who  dropped  in  after  dinner, 
had  made  up  a  rubber  of  whist,  very  much  to  Mrs. 
Cartwright's  disappointment.  She  would  decidedly 
have  preferred  cribbage  with  the  Colonel  for  her- 
self, and,  for  Mabel,  a  tete-a-tete  by  moonlight  with 
the  cavalry  officer.  Unfortunately,  however,  the 
young  man  had  recently  taken  up  whist,  and  vastly 
preferred  it  to  a  combination  of  moonlight  and 
Mabel. 

"  You  may  smoke,  if  you  like,"  said  Constance, 
after  they  had  established  themselves  by  the  sea  wall, 
where  they  could  have  a  view  of  the  bay  and  could 
even  see  the  flickering  lights  of  Binondo  away  off 
to  the  right. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  won't  mind  ? "  he  asked,  feel- 
ing that  he  would  be  glad  to  have  the  assistance  of  a 
cigar,  to  enable  him  to  get  through  the  next  hour 
creditably. 

"  Quite.     I  like  it." 

He  lit  his  long  Manila,  and  leaning  back  in  his  bam- 
boo chair  smoked  silently,  intent  upon  the  solution 
of  the  problem  concerning  his  future  actions.  It  did 
not  take  many  puffs  for  him  to  outline  his  position 
clearly.  The  gist  of  the  matter  was,  that  this  girl 
had  rejected  him  three  years  before  because  she  did 

240 


AN    UNSEEN  BARRIER 


not  care  for  him.  They  met  now  as  friends,  and  as 
long  as  he  was  careful  not  to  betray,  by  word,  or 
look,  or  intonation,  the  fact  that  he  still  cared  for  her, 
his  being  with  her  could  do  no  harm.  This  ought  not 
to  be  so  difficult,  surely.  He  had  self-control  enough 
to  keep  the  truth  from  his  lips  and  shut  it  up  securely 
back  in  his  heart,  where  it  belonged.  As  far  as  his 
own  feelings  were  concerned,  he  decided  that  per- 
haps he  had  been  wrong  the  night  before,  when  he 
determined  not  to  see  her  again.  He  would  have  to 
go  back  to  the  other  life  soon  enough.  Why  throw 
away  what  little  taste  of  happiness  might  be  left  to 
him,  in  this  unexpected  renewal  of  the  old  ?  He  was 
entitled  to  enjoy  her  friendship  for  a  little  while, 
even  tho  he  could  never  hope  for  any  closer  rela- 
tionship. Going  away  wouldn't  cure  him  of  his  love 
for  her — he  was  at  last  too  miserably  certain  of 
that,  and  by  staying,  he  might  have  a  few  hours  of 
happiness  which  he  could  look  back  upon  through 
all  the  future  years.  A  half  loaf  was  surely  better 
than  no  bread. 

"  It  is  a  great  surprise  to  meet  you  here,"  he  said, 
at  last.  "  How  did  you  happen  to  come  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Cartwright  is  a  cousin  of  mine,  and  I  came 
out  to  meet  my  brother." 

"Your  brother?  Have  you  a  brother  in  the 
16  241 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Philippines  ?  "  he  asked,  in  surprise,  for  he  had  never 
met  Doctor  Fairchild  in  the  old  days. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  you  never  met  him,  did  you  ?  He  is  in 
the  army  now." 

"  In  the  army  ?     You  mean  an  officer  ? " 

"  He  is  a  contract  surgeon." 

"  Not  Doctor  Richard  Fairchild  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  a 
light  breaking  in  upon  him  suddenly. 

"  The  same.  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you 
have  met  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes — but  I  never  knew — that  he  was  your 
brother.  And  'yet  it  seems  strange  now,  that  the 
idea  of  a  possible  relationship  did  not  occur  to  me. 
He  was  Post  surgeon  at  Silay,  where  I  was  stationed, 
and  took  care  of  me  when  I  had  the  fever  last  year." 

She  noticed  that  he  referred  only  to  his  fever. 
"  How  odd.  That  was  when  you  were  wounded 
—wasn't  it?" 

"  How  did  you  know  I  was  wounded  ? "  he  asked 
in  surprise. 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  you,"  she  replied,  merrily. 

Altho  she  glanced  at  him  as  she  spoke,  she  did 
not  note  the  quick  anxious  look  that  came  into  his 
face,  to  vanish  again,  leaving  it  a  shade  paler  than 
before.  Then,  an  instant  later,  dread  that  she  knew 

of  his  marriage  changed  to  a  hope  that  it  might 

242 


AN    UNSEEN   BARRIER 


indeed  be  so.  If  she  did,  and  still  received  him  in 
this  friendly  way,  his  fears  that  she  would  despise 
him  had  been  groundless.  "  Do  you  ?  "  he  asked  at 
length,  wondering  how  far  her  knowledge  went. 

"  Yes.  I  was  talking  to  some  one  about  you,  last 
night.  Some  one  who  knows  you  very  well." 

"Who  was  it?" 

"  Captain  Taylor.  He  dined  with  us  at  the  Paris 
cafe,  and  said  some  exceedingly  nice  things  about 
you." 

"  He  is  very  kind.  I  have  always  had  the  great- 
est regard  for  him.  You  know  he  was  my  company 
commander  while  I  was  in  the  army.  He  is  a  very 
fine  officer.  How  did  he  happen  to  speak  of  me  ?  " 

"  It  was  apropos  of  bravery  on  the  field.  He  told 
how  you  saved  his  life  at  Santiago.  Yes,"  she  con- 
tinued after  waiting  a  moment  for  him  to  speak. 
"  And  I  want  to  tell  you  how  magnificent  I  think 
it  was." 

Her  words  gave  him  the  keenest  sensation  of 
pleasure  that  had  been  his  for  two  years,  but  there 
was  a  mixture  of  bitter  with  the  sweet.  He  recalled 
clearly  how,  as  he  had  staggered  across  the  field  that 
day,  under  the  weight  of  Taylor's  body,  he  had  felt 
a  stinging  pain  in  his  leg  and  had  hoped  that  if  the 
end  was  to  come,  it  would  come  then.  There  had 

243 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

been  a  great  happiness  in  those  moments.  The  wild, 
fierce  joy  of  battle  had  been  in  his  veins,  and  the 
pleasure  of  the  deed  had  been  doubled  by  the  thought 
that  she  would  some  day  learn  of  it.,  She  had  done 
so,  at  last,  and  here,  on  the  other  side  of  the  earth, 
he  learned  of  that  knowledge  from  her  own  lips. 
And  the  most  it  could  ever  do  for  him  now,  would 
be  to  soften  the  contempt  with  which  she  would  re- 
gard him  when  the  sword  should  fall. 

"  It  was  only  my  duty,  under  the  circumstances," 
he  replied,  "  besides — I  wanted  to  do  something  out 
of  the  ordinary  and  I  liked  Taylor.  Altogether  it 
was  quite  an  act  of  selfishness." 

"  Very  likely,"  she  observed,  thinking  that  the  sub- 
ject did  not  admit  of  argument. 

The  short  reply  made  him  uncomfortably  aware 
that  his  last  words  sounded  like  an  affectation  and 
had  not  been  taken  in  the  proper  spirit. 

"  Don't  think  that  I  am  trying  to  be  like  the  heroes 
in  novels,"  he  said.  "  You  see,  in  time  of  war,  all 
men  are  looking  for  just  such  opportunities.  Men 
are  not  so  unselfishly  brave  as  you  imagine.  If 
there  was  no  chance  for  personal  individual  distinc- 
tion and  recognition,  I  imagine  that  there  would  be 
very  few  wars.  I  wanted  to  win  the  medal  of  honor 

and  that  was  my  opportunity." 

244 


AN   UNSEEN  BARRIER 


"  Just  because  you  were  actuated  by  a  sordid, 
ignoble  motive,  you  have  no  right  to  accuse  all  the 
others  of  selfishness,"  she  retorted. 

He  laughed.  "  I  was  judging  of  others  by  my- 
self. Forgive  me  if  I  took  too  low  a  standard." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  forgive  you — altho  it's  not 
easy.  You  see  I  had  made  quite  a  hero  of  you,  and 
nothing  vexes  a  woman  more  than  to  have  her  idols 
overthrown  in  that  fashion." 

"  I  am  sorry." 

"  But  I  have  not  told  you  yet  how  I  came  to 
learn  that  you  were  wounded.  I  heard  it  from  your 
father." 

"  Indeed !     How  was  that  ?  " 

"  I  saw  him  last  September  to  make  arrangements 
about  this  trip  and  he  told  me  then.  That  was  the 
first  I  had  heard  of  it."  She  paused,  turning  her 
head  slightly,  and  giving  him  a  quick  glance,  then  she 
concluded  slowly,  in  a  voice  which  was  wonderfully 
soft  and  sympathetic :  "  You  have  been  through  a 
great  deal  since  I  saw  you  last.  You  must  have 
suffered  greatly." 

"  Most  men  do — at  some  tune  in  their  lives.  I 
have  had  my  hours  of  happiness,  too." 

"  I  suppose  it's  necessary,"  she  replied,  thought- 
fully, "  that  we  should  suffer,  if  we  are  to  develop. 

345 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

But  it  seems  hard  that  we  can't  develop  in  some 
other  way." 

"  And  the  worst  of  it  is  that  the  more  you  develop, 
the  more  vulnerable  you  become  to  suffering." 

"  But  more  capable  of  happiness,  at  the  same  time, 
I  hope?" 

"  I  don't  see  the  logic  of  that.  It  isn't  necessary 
to  suffer  in  order  to  be  capable  of  happiness.  It's 
not  necessary  to  be  abnormal  in  order  to  be  normal 
afterwards.  A  child  is  happy,  and  children  do  not 
suffer  in  the  way  you  mean." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken  there.  I  believe 
human  nature  can  reach  its  greatest  height  only  by 
crossing  the  greatest  depths;  children  are  not  men 
and  women." 

"  But  still  I  can't  believe,"  he  persisted,  "  that  our 
emotions  are  like  our  muscles;  that  they  have  to  be 
exercised  and  played  upon  in  order  to  be  capable  of 
happiness.  I  can't  believe  that  suffering  strengthens 
the  power  to  enjoy.  I  think  it  weakens  it,  by 
robbing  us  of  vitality.  Perhaps  a  man's  happiness 
is  like  his  bank  account,  the  more  he  draws  on  it  the 
less  there  is  left." 

She  shook  her  head  slightly,  being  a  believer  in  the 
doctrine  that  whatever  comes  to  one  in  life,  whether 
joy  or  sorrow,  goes  to  make  character  and  refine 

246 


*"  AN   UNSEEN  BARRIER 


sensibility.  She  was  temporarily  at  a  loss  for  words 
with  which  to  express  the  thought  and  before  she 
found  them,  he  added: 

"  But,  nevertheless,  I  mean  to  draw  on  my  bank 
account  every  time  I  have  the  opportunity." 

"  You  will  exhaust  it  if  you  do,  according  to  your 
theory,"  said  Constance. 

"  Perhaps.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  I  don't,  I 
may  die  before  it  is  exhausted.  How  long  will  you 
remain  here  ? " 

"  For  some  time  yet.  Until  my  brother's  contract 
expires.  I  am  enjoying  it  very  much." 

He  reflected  that  just  so  long  as  he  could  be  near 
her,  his  credit  at  that  bank  would  hold  out.  Why 
not  draw  upon  it  liberally  while  it  lasted? 

"  I  think  your  financial  education  has  been  neg- 
lected," said  Constance,  after  a  moment.  "  You 
imagine  that  your  happiness  is  in  a  bank,  subject  to 
your  order.  It's  not." 

"  No  ?  "  said  Everton,  thinking  how  much  happi- 
ness there  was  in  being  near  her.  "  Where  is  it  ?  " 

"  It's  in  the  hands  of  a  trustee,  who  doles  it  out  as 
you  earn  it  and  when  you  make  unreasonable 
demands,  he  turns  a  deaf  ear." 

"And  what  shall  we  call  the   'trustee'?"   he 

asked. 

247 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Oh,  call  him  Fate,  Destiny ;  anything  you  will." 

"  I  hope,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  touch  of 
bitterness  in  his  voice,  "  that  some  time — in  this 
world  or  the  next,  our  trustees  will  have  to  make 
their  accountings  and  hand  over  the  happiness  they 
have  failed  to  pay  to  us  here." 

"  Perhaps  they  will  pay  it  yet,"  said  Constance,  a 
soft  light  coming  into  her  dark  eyes. 

Everton  knew  very  well  that  the  happiness  he 
wanted  could  never  be  his  on  this  earth.  He 
knocked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar  and  said :  "  I  think 
yours  is  a  very  mistaken  theory.  Sorrows  are  not 
nice  things,  any  way  you  look  at  them.  A  sorrow 
to-day  does  not  make  a  joy  for  to-morrow  seem 
greater.  It  is  the  skeleton  at  to-morrow's  feast." 

"  No,  no,  that  isn't  so,"  said  Constance,  earnestly. 
"  I  have  had  sorrows  in  my  life,  but  they  have  not 
remained  such  always.  I  have  tried  to  turn  them 
into  lessons." 

"  It  depends  on  the  nature  of  the  evil,  of  course," 
said  Everton.  "  You  will  admit  that  there  are 
things  which  can  crush  and  crush  for  all  time — put- 
ting one  beyond  the  possibility  of  happiness  ?  " 

"  Of  a  certain  specified  happiness,  perhaps ;  but  of 
all  happiness — no.  Happiness  in  a  general  sense  can 
be  had  by  any  one  who  takes  the  right  view  of  life." 


V 

AN    UNSEEN  BARRIER 


"  In  that  case  you  must  conquer  all  your  stronger 
feelings  first,"  he  answered.  "  Sometimes  what  you 
call  a  certain  specified  happiness  means  all  happiness 
to  a  man — "  he  stopped  suddenly,  realizing  that  he 
was  upon  dangerous  ground.  She  caught  her 
breath  and  waited  expectantly.  After  a  pause  he 
returned  to  the  discussion  of  her  metaphor.  "  If 
the  happiness  of  some  people  is  in  the  hands  of  their 
'  trustees,'  that  of  others  is  in  the  hands  of  a  '  re- 
ceiver/ I  imagine,"  he  said. 

"  Even  so — do  not  men  go  through  bankruptcy 
that  they  may  be  put  on  their  feet  again,  and  start 
afresh?" 

He  laughed.  "  I  am  afraid  you  will  turn  all  my 
arguments  against  me.  I  might  as  well  yield  now." 

"  An  optimist  should  always  conquer  a  pessimist, 
on  such  subjects." 

"  Do  you  call  me  a  pessimist  ? " 

"  Not  entirely.  But  you  seem  to  take  rather  a 
gloomy  view  of  life." 

He  did  not  reply  immediately,  and  when  he  did,  it 
was  to  ask  some  question  about  her  voyage  out,  and 
how  she  had  liked  Japan.  From  this  the  conversa- 
tion drifted  into  other  channels,  and  they  spoke  of 
many  things.  He  wanted  to  know  what  the  world 

had  been  doing  during  the  two  years  he  had  been  out 

249 


DANIEL   EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

of  it,  and  she  wanted  to  hear  of  his  life  as  a  soldier. 
She  talked  of  books  and  the  theaters  and  politics,  and 
the  many  things  which  go  to  make  up  the  life  of  civi- 
lization, and  are  as  meat  and  drink  to  the  mind  long 
accustomed  to  their  stimulus.  He  told  her  of  Cas- 
sidy  and  Redder  and  the  man  from  Tennessee,  relat- 
ing some  anecdotes  that  provoked  a  laugh,  and  some 
which  brought  tears  of  sympathy  to  her  eyes.  And 
she  noted  that  in  these  last  it  was  always  of  the  en- 
durance or  the  fortitude  of  others  that  he  spoke.  He 
referred  to  himself  as  a  mere  onlooker.  It  was 
difficult  for  her  to  realize  from  the  way  in  which  he 
spoke  of  the  hardships  and  trials  of  life  in  the  ranks, 
that  he  himself  had  been  a  partaker  of  them. 

On  one  subject  there  was  a  reticence  which 
puzzled  her.  He  avoided  speaking  of  his  future — 
its  plans  or  its  hopes.  He  talked  freely  of  his  life  as 
a  soldier,  but  the  narrative  stopped  short  with  his 
discharge  from  the  army. 

Only  once  during  the  evening  did  he  in  any  way 
refer  to  his  present  work,  and  when  she  recalled  that 
occasion  afterwards,  she  remembered  that  he  had 
only  done  so  then  because,  in  a  way,  compelled  to. 

She  had  been  speaking  again  of  her  call  upon  his 
father,  and  when  she  had  finished  he  asked,  "  How 

was  he  when  you  saw  him  ? " 

250 


AN    UNSEEN  BARRIER 


Constance  was  about  to  reply,  conventionally,  that 
Mr.  Everton  had  been  very  well,  but  checked  herself 
in  time.  She  had  an  opening,  now,  to  say  something 
which  she  had  wanted  to  say  ever  since  she  had 
learned  that  he  proposed  to  make  his  home  in  the 
Philippines.  She  thought  that  the  son's  place  was 
at  his  father's  side,  under  the  circumstances. 

"  He  was  not  at  all  well,  apparently.  He  seemed 
old  and  weak.  I  think  he  misses  you  more  than  you 
can  know.  He  seemed  like  a  man  with  a  great 
weight  on  his  mind." 

The  last  sentence  caused  Everton  to  think  for  a 
moment  before  replying.  She  had  seen  his  father 
eight  months  ago.  That  was  before  the  big  draft, 
which  had  cost  the  young  man  so  much,  had  gone 
from  Iloilo  to  New  York.  That  accounted  for  Mar- 
shall Everton's  having  had  something  on  his  mind. 
The  son  looked  at  the  beautiful  girl  at  his  side  and 
then  thought  bitterly  of  Mercedes  and  the  ruin  which 
had  been  brought  in  his  life  by  the  father's  act.  A 
touch  of  this  bitterness  found  utterance  in  his  voice 
when  he  next  spoke. 

"  I  fancy  he  is  all  right  by  this  time." 

The  reply  jarred  upon  her  inexpressibly,  and 
caused  her  to  shrink  from  him.  She  remembered 

the  anxiety  and  love  in  Marshall  Everton's  manner, 

251 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

when  he  had  spoken  of  this  son,  and  now  the  son 
could  refer  to  him  like  that.  The  words  sounded 
almost  brutal  in  her  ears,  and  she  wondered  quickly 
whether  the  man's  experience  as  a  soldier  could  have 
brutalized  him  and  deadened  his  finer  sensibilities. 
She  had  read  somewhere  that  war  had  that  effect. 

"  Your  imagination  must  be  a  great  comfort  to 
you,"  she  observed  in  a  colder  tone  than  she  had  ever 
before  used  in  speaking  to  him.  "  But  I  don't  see 
just  why  you  think  that  your  father  is  better  than  he 
was  eight  months  ago.  When  a  man  gets  to  his  time 
of  life  the  months  don't  necessarily  bring  more 
strength  as  they  pass  by.  Your  father  is  a  lonely  old 
man  and  ill — if  I  am  any  judge,  and — "  she  stopped 
suddenly. 

"  And  what?  "  he  asked,  quietly. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  say  what  I  was  going  to  say." 

"  If  I  can  give  you  the  right — please  go  on." 

"  Well,  then — I  think  you  ought  to  be  with  him — 
that's  all.  Why  don't  you  go  home  ?  " 

He  hesitated.  "  I  can't  very  well — just  now.  I 
have  interests  out  here  which  require  my  presence." 

"  You  know  your  own  business  best,  of  course," 
she  replied.  "  But  I  should  say  that  you  owed  your 
first  duty  to  him ;  that  you  ought  to  go  home  and  be 
with  him  during  the  last  years  of  his  life." 

252 


A.N    UNSEEN  BARRIER 


He  fell  silent  again  for  a  moment.  Several 
months  afterwards  he  remembered  that  remark  and 
wondered  why  he  had  been  so  dense  as  not  to  infer 
from  it  that  she  cared  for  him.  His  knowledge  of 
women  was  not  as  deep  as  his  knowledge  of  men. 
It  never  occurred  to  him  that  she  could  have  learned 
to  care  during  the  years  they  had  been  separated. 
Nor  did  it  occur  to  him  that  she  would  never,  un- 
asked, have  told  him  what  his  duty  was,  unless  she 
loved  him  and  took  a  personal  interest  in  wishing  to 
see  that  duty  performed. 

"  I  don't  think  you  understand  just  how  it  is,"  he 
said,  after  a  while.  "  I  am  not  staying  out  here  to 
gratify  any  personal  whim.  My  father  has  been  un- 
fortunate and  we  are  now  poor.  He  wrote  to  me  to 
remain  here  if  I  could  find  any  opening  and — well, 
I  am  only  remaining  because  I  have  to  earn  my  liv- 
ing and  I  don't  know  that  I  could  do  so,  at  home." 

Constance  realized  that  she  had  forced  him  to 
speak  of  his  poverty  and  that  possibly  the  confession 
hurt  him.  In  this  she  did  him  an  injustice.  If 
poverty  had  been  his  only  affliction,  he  would  have 
been  a  happy  man  that  night;  if  it  had  been  the  only 
barrier  between  them,  he  would  have  spoken  words 
which  she  wanted  to  hear. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said  contritely.  "  I  had 
253 


D4NIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

no  right  to  speak  as  I  did.     Of  course  you  know 
best." 

"  I  am  glad  you  did  speak,  since  you  felt  that 
way." 

She  played  with  her  fan  for  a  moment,  turning 
over  something  in  her  mind  that  she  wished  to  say, 
and  wondering  how  to  put  it.  At  length  she  said 
suddenly,  "  Speaking  of  trustees.  You  know  that 
your  father  is  the  trustee  under  my  father's  will, 
of  the  money  he  left  me  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Everton,  slowly.  "  Yes,  I  know 
it." 

"  Well ;  I  had  a  letter  from  him  the  other  day,  and 
he  said  that  as  the  time  of  the  accounting  had  come, 
he  wished  to  make  it,  and — I  don't  know  what  he 
called  it,  but  he  means  he  wants  to  turn  over  every- 
thing to  me.  I  am  going  to  write  and  ask  him  if  he 
can't  continue  to  manage  my  affairs  for  me,  for  the 
present  at  least.  He  will  do  it,  won't  he  ?  Isn't  that 
part  of  a  lawyer's  business — the  management  of 
estates  ? " 

Everton  took  some  time  for  consideration  before 
replying.  "  I  wouldn't  do  that  if  I  were  you,"  he 
said,  slowly,  after  a  long  pause — one  for  which  she 
was  unable  to  account. 

"Why  not?" 

254 


AN    UNSEEN  BARRIER 


"  Of  course  he  would  be  delighted  to  be  of  any 
service,  but " 

"But  what?" 

"  Well — he's  getting  on  in  years,  for  one  thing, 
and  for  another,  I  think  every  woman  should  know 
how  to  manage  her  own  affairs." 

"  If  you  think  he  is  not  equal  to  it,  of  course  that 
makes  a  difference,"  said  Constance,  regretfully. 

It  had  occurred  to  her  to  employ  Marshall  Ever- 
ton  to  manage  her  affairs  and  pay  him  a  handsome 
salary  for  the  service ;  but  the  words,  and  more  than 
that,  something  in  the  manner  of  the  son,  made  her 
think  that  he  did  not  wish  it.  She  could  not  explain 
her  very  generous  motive  to  her  companion,  and  so 
changed  the  subject,  and  the  conversation  turned 
upon  impersonal  matters  once  more. 

As  they  talked,  Everton  was  disturbedin  the  happi- 
ness of  being  with  her,  by  the  not  pleasant  thought 
that  he  was  a  coward.  He  had  been  with  her  all  the 
evening  and  had  said  nothing  about  his  marriage. 
He  tried  to  argue  to  himself  that  he  was  under  no 
obligation  to  do  so,  but  the  sophistry  did  not  soothe 
his  conscience.  Once  he  nerved  himself  to  speak, 
but  as  he  looked  at  her,  he  found  himself  utterly 
unable  to  utter  the  words  which  he  knew  would  put 
an  end  to  her  friendship  and  respect.  He  was  just 

255 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

coming  to  the  conclusion  that  perhaps  after  all,  the 
best  way  out  of  the  difficulty  would  be  not  to  see 
her  again,  when  he  suddenly  realized  the  lateness  of 
the  hour. 

"  I  must  be  going,"  he  said,  rising. 

She  followed  his  example  and  held  out  her  hand. 
"  If  you  have  nothing  better  to  do,  come  and  have 
a  cup  of  tea,  at  five  to-morrow.  Captain  Taylor  will 
be  here  and  he  will  be  delighted  to  see  you  again." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  he  said.     "  I  will." 
256 


Chapter  XVI 
A  SOCIAL  VERDICT 

ONSTANCE  was  making  the  tea,  and  found 
the  task  no  inconsiderable  one,  for  the  big 
hall,  which  served  as  a  living  room  to  the 
occupants  of  the  house  on  Calle  Real,  was  crowded. 

Lieutenant  Humphrey — such  was  the  name  of 
the  cavalry  subaltern — was  there,  on  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright's  invitation,  and  occupied  a  seat  on  the  big 
divan  by  Mabel's  side.  The  young  man  had  but 
recently  arrived  from  a  long  tour  of  duty  in  a  small 
pueblo  near  Dagupan.  Before  that  he  had  been  for 
four  years  at  the  Military  Academy,  and  behind  that 
was  the  recollection  of  a  boyhood  passed  on  a  Mis- 
souri farm.  He  was,  in  fact,  having  his  first  experi- 
ence of  what  is  ambiguously  known  as  "  society," 
and  he  was  enjoying  it  hugely. 

There  was  also  an  Englishman,  named  Marcy, 
whom  the  party  had  met  in  Japan,  and  who,  after 

traveling  from  Shanghai  to  Hongkong  on  the  same 
17  257 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

ship  with  Constance,  had  suddenly  discovered  that 
he  had  always  wanted  to  visit  the  Philippines,  and 
had  followed  them  there. 

"  Will  you  take  cream,  Captain  Taylor?  "  inquired 
Constance. 

That  officer  had  been  regarding  her  silently  for 
some  minutes  and  now,  being  addressed,  started  sud- 
denly. "  Yes,  thank  you;  one  lump,  please." 

Mrs.  Cartwright  was  the  only  one,  besides  Con- 
stance, who  noticed  the  absurdity  of  the  reply,  and 
she  noticed  it  because  she  never  missed  anything. 
She  made  it  a  point  never  to  become  so  interested  in 
conversation  with  any  one  person,  as  to  be  unable  to 
follow  what  the  others  in  the  party  were  saying. 
She  glanced  quickly  at  Taylor,  who  noticed  her  look 
and  grew  red. 

Constance  had  already  put  two  lumps  in  the  cup, 
but  deftly  fished  one  out  as  she  handed  it  to  him. 

"  Ruins  tea — milk  and  sugar,"  observed  the 
Englishman,  who  wished  to  be  a  party  to  any  con- 
versation which  included  Constance. 

His  remark  caused  her  to  glance  in  his  direction 
and  she  noticed  that  he  had  finished  his.  "  Can  I 
give  you  another  cup  ? "  she  asked. 

"By  Jove,  no!  Miss  Fairchild.      You  certainly 

need  a  rest." 

258 


A  SOCIAL    VERDICT 


"  Not  at  all.  I  love  to  make  tea.  It's  such  fun 
fussing  with  the  things.  I  suppose  that  we  women 
take  the  same  sort  of  pleasure  out  of  it  that  you  men 
do  out  of  your  cigar." 

"  If  you  were  a  Filipina,  Miss  Fairchild,  you 
could  have  the  fun  of  smoking,  too,"  said  the  cavalry 
subaltern. 

"  Do  the  native  women  smoke;  the  nice  ones,  the 
ladies  2 "  inquired  the  Englishman. 

"  "No"  said  Everton,  shifting  uncomfortably  in 
his  chair,  and  joining  in  the  general  conversation  for 
the  first  time. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  call  the  '  ladies,'  "  per- 
sisted the  young  officer,  "  but  I've  seen  lots  of  the 
women  smoking,  and  pretty  ones,  too.  On  the 
streets,  what's  more." 

"  In  Russia,  the — ah — ladies  smoke,"  observed 
Mr.  Marcy,  putting  down  his  cup  and  stroking  his 
long  blond  mustache. 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  you  mean  by  Fili- 
pino ladies,"  said  Colonel  Cartwright,  slowly.  "  All 
coons  look  alike  to  me,"  whereat  there  was  a  laugh 
in  which  all  present  joined  but  one,  and  that  one  felt 
that  he  was  growing  crimson. 

"  I  should  hardly  call  these  people  '  coons/  "  said  { 
Taylor. 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

!/  "  Nor  should  I,"  added  Constance.  "  A  coon  is 
a  negro,  and  these  people  are  hardly  that." 

She  noticed  that  Everton  had  spilled  a  few  drops 
of  tea  on  to  his  white  duck  trousers.  She  noticed, 
too,  that  he  had  grown  very  pale,  and  wondered 
anxiously  if  he  could  be  ill.  She  did  not  know  that 
her  use  of  the  word  "  hardly  "  had  cut  him  like  a 
knife. 

"  They  do  have  '  ladies  '  out  here  as  opposed  to  the 
lower  orders,"  Taylor  insisted,  sturdily,  "  and  I've 
been  delightfully  entertained  by  them.  Haven't 
you,  Everton  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  in  a  low  tone. 

Mr.  Marcy  was  unable  to  conceal  his  surprise  at 
this  statement.  "  Oh,  I  say,"  he  protested,  "  you 
surely  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  military  chaps 
associate  with  the — ah — coons  in  a  social  way  ?  " 

"  I  have,  more  than  once.  We've  had  to  associate 
with  them  down  in  the  south.  In  going  about  the 
country  we  are  often  obliged  to  put  up  with  them, 
and  they're  awfully  hospitable." 

"  Ah,  yes ;  of  course — for  a  man  on  active  service, 
don't  you  know.  Under  those  conditions  I  fancy  one 
has  to  put  up  with  anything.  But  you  don't  asso- 
ciate with  them  here  in  Manila,  surely  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  any  of  the  native  families  here  yet. 
260 


A   SOCIAL    VERDICT 


I  imagine  that  I  should,  however.     I  believe  the 
others  do." 

"  You  won't  for  long,  by  Jove,"  said  the  English- 
man, confidently.  "  It's  because  you've  just  taken 
hold  of  the  nigger  and  don't  know  just  what  to  do 
with  him." 

"  It's  a  pity  about  that,"  observed  Colonel  Cart- 
wright,  dryly.  "  We've  a  few  niggers  in  the  States, 
you  know." 

Mr.  Marcy  was  too  scrupulously  well  bred  to  re- 
mind his  host  of  the  not  over  able  or  masterly  way  in 
which  the  citizens  of  his  great  republic  have  handled 
the  negro  problem  in  the  last  hundred  years.  The 
Englishman  had  not  intended  his  last  remark  to  be 
patronizing  and  hastened  to  explain. 

"  When  I  say  t  nigger '  in  that  sense,  I  mean  the 
East  Indian  and  the  Malay — not  the  African.  Of 
course  you  know  more  about  the  latter  than  we  do — 
or  any  one  else.  Now,  with  us,  in  India " 

"  How  is  it  in  India? "  asked  Constance,  inter- 
ested. 

"  Why,  in  India,  Miss  Fairchild,  one  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  native,  or  what  we  call  the  Eurasian, 
which  corresponds  to  your  mestiza  here.  We  don't 
associate  with  them  at  all,  you  know.  Absolutely 
impossible — as  much  as  one's  reputation  is  worth  to  \ 

261 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

be  seen  talking  to  one  of  their  women.  I  don't  know 
just  how  to  express  it,  but — well,  in  short,  they're 
niggers,  you  know !  " 

After  this,  for  him,  remarkably  long  and  lucid  ex- 
planation, the  Englishman  relapsed  into  silence  and 
fell  to  regarding  Constance  once  more. 

"  We  certainly  associate  with  them  out  here,"  said 
Mabel.  "  We  go  to  the  balls  and  things  they  give, 
and  they  come  to  the  ones  we  give." 

"  You  astonish  me,"  asserted  Mr.  Marcy. 

"  The  cases  are  not  at  all  parallel,"  said  Colonel 
Cartwright,  prying  open  a  box  of  cigars  with  his  pen- 
knife. "  As  I  understand  the  matter,  the  men  in 
India  themselves,  the  natives,  don't  associate  with 
any  women  but  their  own  wives,  and  those  they  keep 
shut  up  in  harems.  These  people  are  not  polyga- 
mists.  They  are  very  different,  and  we'll  have  to  as- 
sociate with  them  or  else  they  will  hate  us."  He 
finished  opening  the  box  and  handed  it  to  Mr.  Marcy. 
"  The  ladies  don't  mind,"  he  explained. 

"No,  indeed.  We  like  it,"  added  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright. 

"  When  we  are  in  Eome,  we  must  do  as  the — ah — 
Komans  do,"  said  the  Englishman,  taking  a  cigar. 
"  There  is  certainly  something  in  what  you  say  about 

the  difference  in  the  races,"  he  admitted. 

263 


A   SOCIAL    VERDICT 


"  Nevertheless,"  said  Mrs.  Cartwright,  who,  it 
seemed,  was  destined  by  fate  to  differ  with  her  hus- 
band on  most  topics,  "  I  don't  believe  that  we  will 
always  associate  with  them,  socially.  I  think  that 
when  we  have  a  larger  American  colony  out  here 
they  will  keep  to  themselves  and  not  mix  with  the 
natives." 

"  I  know  one  chap,"  said  Mr.  Marcy,  "  who  used 
to  live  up  near  Lahore.  He  never  saw  a  white 
woman  from  one  year's  end  to  another,  and,  by  Jove, 
he  up  and  married  one  of  the  Eurasians — deuced 
pretty  girl  she  was,  too.  But  when  he  went  back  to 
Bombay  on  a  visit,  there  wasn't  a  door  in  the  town 
that  wasn't  shut  tight  in  his  face !  " 

"  Association  in  a  social  way  is  one  thing ;  mar- 
riage is  another,"  said  Constance,  with  an  expression 
of  disgust.  Everton  was  looking  intently  at  her,  and 
not  a  particle  of  that  expression  escaped  him. 

Mr.  Marcy  appeared  to  be  turning  something  over 
in  his  mind.  "  Well,"  he  observed,  slowly,  "  they 
needn't  have  been  so  deuced  hard  on  him  because  he 
married  the  girl.  He  might  better  have  done  that 
than  to — "  He  realized,  suddenly,  that  he  was  speak- 
ing too  freely  and  checked  himself,  flushing  pain- 
fully. There  was  a  pause  of  an  instant's  duration, 
during  which  each  of  those  present  finished  out  the 

263 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

sentence,  mentally.  All  of  the  women  agreed  with 
the  unvoiced  sentiment,  while  most  of  the  men  dis- 
agreed with  it.  One  of  Miss  Fairchild's  greatest 
gifts  was  a  social  presence  of  mind.  She  caught  up 
the  sentence  where  he  had  dropped  it. 

"  Than  to  go  through  life  without  a  wife  ?  I  am 
•\J  not  sure  but  that  I  agree  with  you,  especially  if  he 
had  to  live  in  such  a  place.  No  doubt  she  made  him 
a  good  one." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  Englishman,  much  re- 
lieved. «  She  died." 

This  addition  was  greeted  with  a  hearty  laugh. 
N\ 

"  Those  cases  don't  happen  very  often,  though,"  he 

continued.  "  I  have  never  known  of  but  the  one  in- 
stance." 

"  I  have  never  been  in  India,"  said  Constance, 
"  but  these  people  strike  me  as  being  very  intel- 
ligent; at  least  those  whom  it  has  been  my  fortune  to 
meet." 

"  And  excepting  those  whom  it  has  been  our  mis- 
J  fortune  to  employ  as  servants,"  added  Mrs.   Cart- 
wright,  dryly. 

"  You'll   make  a  mistake,  if   you    treat  them  as 
\  equals,  just  the  same,"  persisted  Mr.  Marcy.     "  A 
nigger's  a  nigger  wherever  one  meets  him." 

"  Well ;  such  of  the  American  people  as  mean  to 
264 


A  SOCIAL    VERDICT 


make  their  homes  out  here,  will  have  to  associate 
with  them — that's  all,"  replied  Colonel  Cartwright. 
"  They  are  vastly  in  the  majority  and  always  will 
be.     The  Spaniards  associated  with  them." 

"  Not  on  terms  of  equality,  did  they  ? " 

"  They  married  them." 

"  Ah,  yes;  of  course  they  did — out  here.  And 
they  butchered  them  pretty  freely,  too.  But  they 
didn't  take  their  wives  home  with  them  to  Spain,  I 
fancy.  Deuced  proud  chaps — those  Dons !  " 

"  Wasn't  it  only  the  lower  classes  who  married  the 
natives  ?  "  inquired  Constance.  "  As  I  understand 
it,  the  governors  and  other  officials  brought  their 
wives  out  with  them  from  Spain.  I  can't  imagine  a 
Spanish  gentleman's  marrying  a  native." 

Everton  found  it  impossible  to  endure  the  conver- 
sation any  longer.  He  picked  up  his  hat,  which  had 
been  reposing  on  the  floor  by  his  side,  and  crossed  to 
where  Mrs.  Cartwright  sat.  "  Must  you  go  so 
soon  ? "  inquired  that  matron,  cordially,  noting  that 
the  hand  which  took  hers  was  very  cold. 

"  Yes — I — I  have  an  engagement,  and  it  is  al- 
ready past  the  time." 

"  Come  and  see  us  often,  informally.  We  are  at 
home  every  afternoon  before  six." 

"  Thank  you  very  much."     He   turned   toward 
265 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Constance,  and,  as  she  extended  her  hand,  he  noticed 
an  almost  tender  look  in  her  eyes.  She  had  been  ob- 
serving him  during  the  last  ten  minutes  and  had 
seen,  with  the  eyes  of  love;  that  he  was  suffering. 
Having  no  inkling  of  the  true  cause  of  his  distress, 
she  attributed  it  to  physical  weakness,  and  she  knew 
that  he  was  the  man  to  endure  severe  bodily  pain  for 
a  long  time  without  speaking.  Then  she  wondered 
where  it  was  that  he  had  been  wounded  and  whether 
it  was  still  troubling  him  or  not.  Like  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright  she  noticed  that  his  hand  was  cold  and  she 
noticed  also  that  it  trembled. 

"  Are  you  ill  ? "  she  asked,  in  a  voice  so  low  as  to 
be  audible  to  him  alone ;  so  anxious  and  solicitous  as 
to  tell  her  secret  to  any  one  but  him. 

"  No ;  I  am  not  ill,"  he  answered  with  an  effort. 
"  I  will  come  and  see  you  again." 

As  he  spoke,  he  resolved  that  it  was  the  last  time 
he  would  allow  himself  to  be  placed  in  such  a  posi- 
tion. The  next  time  he  came  he  would  tell  her 
everything,  and  then  she  could  take  what  course  she 
chose.  He  owed  it  to  his  own  manhood  not  to  risk 
another  experience  like  this. 

"  Yes ;  do,"  she  said  softly,  "  and  soon." 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  Cartwright  and  Constance  were 


A   SOCIAL    VERDICT 


alone,  the  callers  having  left  and  the  other  members 
of  the  household  having  gone  their  several  ways; 
the  Colonel  to  the  club  for  a  cocktail  and  Mabel  to 
the  garden  with  what  her  mother  termed  her  "  ever- 
lasting paint  box."  Mrs.  Cartwright  was  sewing  and 
Constance  was  sitting  with  her  hands  folded  in  her 
lap,  at  the  big  window  which  opened  on  the  bay. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  your  Mr.  Everton  ? " 
asked  the  older  woman,  biting  off  a  thread. 

Constance  started  slightly.  "  Nothing,  that  I  am 
aware  of.  Why?" 

"  Didn't  you  notice  him  ?  " 

"  Not  especially." 

"  I  should  judge  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Cartwright. 
"  I  did,  however,  all  the  time  we  were  talking  about 
India  and  the  natives  he  was  as  white  as  a  ghost,  or 
as  white  as  a  ghost  can  be  who  has  been  campaigning 
in  the  tropics  for  two  years.  It's  not  natural  for  a 
healthy  man  to  look  like  that.  I  tell  you  there  is 
something  the  matter  with  him." 

"  I  asked  him  if  he  felt  ill  and  he  said  '  no.'  " 

Mrs.  Cartwright  advanced  a  stiff  and  determined 
thread-end  toward  the  eye  of  her  needle.  When 
she  had  passed  it  through  she  glanced  at  Constance 
curiously.  The  girl's  last  remark,  taken  in  connec- 
tion with  her  previous  statement  that  she  had  not 

267 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

noticed  Everton's  manner,  went  a  long  way  toward 
confirming  the  suspicion  which  had  long  ago  for- 
mulated itself  in  her  cousin's  mind.  "  Probably  it's 
nothing  serious,"  she  continued.  "  He  was  sick  last 
year  and  they  say  men  don't  recuperate  rapidly  in 
this  climate." 

Constance  made  no  reply.  She  was  wondering 
whether,  if  Everton  should  be  taken  sick,  it  would 
be  proper  for  her  to  go  and  take  care  of  him,  and  she 
made  up  her  mind  that  it  would,  if  she  had  to  move 
the  whole  Cartwright  family  to  the  Oriente  Hotel 
to  make  it  so. 

Not  having  gotten  all  the  information  she  desired, 
Mrs.  Cartwright  returned  to  the  subject.  "  I  think 
he's  very  nice,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  which  indicated 
that  she  was  entirely  open  to  conviction  in  the  matter, 
and  invited  discussion.  Constance,  however,  did  not 
avail  herself  of  the  opportunity. 

"  Don't  you  ? "  persisted  Mrs.  Cartwright,  after  a 
long  pause. 

"  Yes." 

The  simple  monosyllable  was  discouraging,  and  the 
older  woman  saw  that  any  attempt  at  a  further  cross- 
examination  would  be  detected.  So  she  tactfully 
changed  the  subject.  After  a  little,  Constance  de- 
clared her  intention  of  going  into  the  garden. 

268 


A  SOCIAL    VERDICT 


"  You  will  find  Mabel  there.  I'll  let  you  know 
when  it's  time  to  dress  for  dinner." 

As  Constance  passed  down  the  broad  stairway  she 
encountered  the  Colonel  coming  up. 

"  Have  you  had  your  cocktail  ?  "  inquired  his  wife, 
as  he  entered  the  hall  and  throwing  himself  into  a 
long  chair,  picked  up  a  magazine  from  the  table. 

Colonel  Cartwright  was  one  of  those  men  to  whom 
truthfulness  meant  entire  frankness.  So  firmly  was 
this  characteristic  implanted  in  his  being  that  thirty 
odd  years  of  wedded  life  had  failed  to  uproot  it. 

"  Three,"  he  answered,  shortly. 

"  Not  three  cocktails !  "  protested  Mrs.  Cartwright, 
in  some  alarm.  She  remembered  how  her  husband 
had,  nearly  thirty  years  before,  when  he  was  a 
lieutenant  and  their  home  a  remote  frontier  Post, 
visited  the  Post  sutler's  once  or  twice  too  often,  and 
remained  a  little  too  long  each  time.  Thirty  years 
of  entire  sobriety  had  never  quite  sufficed  to  efface 
that  recollection.  "  How  did  you  happen  to  take 
three  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Three  fellows;  each  treated,"  explained  the 
Colonel  briefly,  without  taking  his  eyes  from  the 
magazine,  in  which  he  had  selected  at  random  an 
article  on  how  actresses  make  up  for  the  stage. 
"Where's  Mabel?" 

269 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  In  the  garden,"  replied  his  wife,  compressing 
her  thin  lips  tightly  and  viciously  biting  off  another 
thread.  She  had  something  to  say  on  the  subject  of 
the  three  cocktails,  and  her  husband  had  discovered 
that  when  this  was  the  case  the  easiest  way  was  to  let 
her  say  it  at  once.  Her  marital  displeasure  was  of 
the  type  to  thrive  on  repression  and  become  stronger 
with  every  day  she  remained  silent.  He  laid  the 
magazine  in  his  lap,  keeping  the  place  with  his  finger, 
and  looked  at  her  over  the  top  of  his  gold-rimmed 
eyeglasses. 

"Well?  "he  said. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  replied,  interrogatively. 

"  You  had  something  to  say  ?  " 

She  sniffed  contemptuously.  "  I  don't  know  that 
what  I  had  to  say  is  important.  You're  of  age." 

"  Yes;  I'm  afraid  so,"  he  replied,  gazing  thought- 
fully at  the  reflection  of  his  white  hair  and  mus- 
tache, in  the  mirror.  "  But,"  he  added,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  keen  gray  eyes,  "  I'm  married." 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it? " 

"  I  may  need  a  strong  hand,  sometimes,  to  guide 
me  over  the  pitfalls  which  beset  the  path  of  young 
soldiers  of  sixty  years." 

She  smiled,  faintly.     "  I  am  afraid  you  are  rather 

a  hardened  character,  Laurence.     However,  I  may 

270 


A  SOCIAL    VERDICT 


as  well  say  what  I  started  to.  I  think  that  people 
ought  to  be  careful  how  they  drink  in  this  climate." 

"  Drink/'  replied  her  husband,  regarding  her  with 
comic  gravity,  "  is  a  thing  people  ought  to  be  care- 
ful about  in  any  climate." 

"  Of  course ;  but  the  tropics,  especially,  are  known 
as  being  bad  places  to  drink  in.  The  English  have 
discovered  it." 

"  That's  right;  they  have.  And  so  have  the 
Scotch.  If  you  could  see  the  way  those  fellows  put 
it  down  at  the  Tiffin  Club,  you'd  say  that  Manila 
came  devilish  near  being  the  worst  place  on  earth  for 
drink,  and  that  there  is  no  doubt  about  the  British- 
ers having  discovered  it." 

"  You  can  make  a  jest  of  it,  if  you  want  to.  You 
can  make  fun  of  anything.  But  the  English  have 
had  a  great  deal  of  experience  in  tropical  campaign- 
ing. That's  one  thing,  at  least,  that  they  can  give 
you  points  on." 

"  Is  the  Transvaal  in  the  tropics  ? "  inquired  the 
Colonel,  demurely. 

Mrs.  Cartwright  scorned  to  reply  to  this  question, 
but  resumed  her  sewing.  Then,  as  he  glanced  at 
her,  her  husband  saw  that  her  lip  was  trembling. 
Leaning  over,  he  patted  her  affectionately  on  the 

hand.      "  There,  there ;  my  love.      You  are  quite 

371 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

right,  and  I  was  only  teasing  you.  Every  one  knows 
that  drink's  a  bad  thing  out  here." 

"  You  ought  not  to  take  three  cocktails  at  once, 
then,"  she  replied,  somewhat  mollified. 

"  I  don't,  as  a  rule." 

Mrs.  Cartwright  finished  one  piece  of  work  and 
picked  up  another.  As  she  was  about  to  begin  on  this 
fresh  task,  she  paused. 

"  Laurence !  " 

"Yes,  Laura?" 

"  .What  do  you  think  of  young  Humphrey?  " 

"  Why,  I  believe  he's  a  very  good  officer — as 
youngsters  go." 

"  Haven't  you  noticed  that  he  seems  to  have  taken 
a  great  fancy  to  Mabel?  " 

"No.     Has  he?" 

"  A  mother's  eyes  are  more  open.    I've  noticed  it." 

"  Pshaw !     There's  nothing  in  it." 

"  Don't  you  be  too  certain  of  that — I  am  not  sure 
but  that  it  might  be  a  good  thing." 

The  Colonel  made  no  reply  to  this  observation, 
being  absorbed  in  the  article  he  was  reading.  He 
loved  Mabel,  in  his  way,  but  he  was  also  able  to  rec- 
ognize the  fact  that  she  was  not  of  the  type  which 
usually  attracts  admiration  from  men.  After  a 

moment  Mrs.  Cartwright  resumed: 

273 


A   SOCIAL    YERDICT 


"  I  had  hoped  that  the  child  would  marry  into  civil 
life,  but  she  seems  perfectly  daft  over  the  army." 

"  Let  her  suit  herself,"  replied  Colonel  Cart- 
wright.  "  I  see  no  immediate  cause  for  us  to  worry 
about  it." 

"  We  ought  to  settle  her  in  life, — before  we  go." 

"  Well;  how  the  mischief  are  we  going  to  do  it? 
I've  thought  of  it  too.  I  know  that  if  I  should  die 
she'd  have  to  keep  school  or  run  a  boarding  house, 
and  the  thought's  not  a  pleasant  one.  But  what's  to 
be  done  ?  She  doesn't  seem  to  care  for  any  one,"  he 
added  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  No.     And  she  hasn't  since " 

The  Colonel  nodded.  "  That  was  a  pity.  He 
seemed  to  care  for  her  and  would  have  made  a  good 
husband,  I  imagine.  But  he's  dead  and  out  of  the 
race." 

"  Not  out  of  her  heart,  though,  and  never  will  be, 
I'm  afraid.  However,  that  is  not  the  only  thing  to 
be  considered." 

"  It's  a  pretty  big  consideration,  with  a  girl  like 
Mabel,"  observed  the  Colonel,  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes — but  it  can  be  arranged,  and  "  she  added, 
nodding  her  head  slowly  and  regarding  him  with  a 
determined  gaze,  "  I  mean  to  arrange  it." 

Her  husband  was  about  to  ask  how  she  proposed  to 
18  273 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

go  about  it,  but  changed  his  mind  and  went  back  to 
his  magazine,  instead. 

"  What  is  your  opinion  of  Mr.  Everton  ? "  she 
asked,  as  he  opened  it. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  haven't  thought  much  about 
him.  You  say  he's  a  gentleman  and  he  certainly  ap- 
pears to  be." 

Mrs.  Cartwright  shook  her  head  mysteriously.  "  I 
am  a  woman,"  she  said,  "  and  of  course  you'll  say 
that  a  woman's  instinct  is  all  nonsense,  but  it's  my 
opinion  that  there  is  something  queer  about  that 
young  man.  He  isn't  all  on  the  surface." 

"  No  one  is,  except  people  like  that  Britisher,"  re- 
plied the  Colonel,  who  disliked  the  English  as  a  race, 
because  he  had  never  known  more  than  half  a  dozen 
in  his  life,  and  those  had  chanced  to  be  what  he  re- 
garded as  blockheads. 

"  Very  well,"  continued  Mrs.  Cartwright,  with  the 
air  of  one  who  pours  forth  a  great  prophecy  to  un- 
believing ears,  "  but  just  you  mark  my  words  and 
we'll  see.  There's  something  mysterious  about  him." 

The  Colonel  restored  the  magazine  to  the  table 
and  looked  at  his  watch.  "  Nonsense,"  he  said; 
"  you'd  find  a  mystery  between  the  lines  of  the  drill 
regulations,  Laura.  Come;  let  us  join  the  young 
people  in  the  garden." 

274 


Chapter  XVII 
PERPLEXITY 

HE  most  uncomfortable  of  mental  attitudes  is 
indecision.  A  set  purpose  brings  with  it  a 
measure  of  comfort — even  tho  the  resolution 
may  be  to  do  something  which  is,  in  itself,  painful. 
One  of  the  most  harassing  forms  of  indecision  is  that 
which  arises  from  a  conflict  between  inclination  on 
the  one  hand  and  duty  on  the  other.  This  is  espe- 
cially so  when  the  inclination  is  strong,  and  the  duty 
not  clearly  defined. 

For  a  week  after  the  day  when  Daniel  Everton 
had  been  compelled  to  listen  to  what  was  virtually 
his  own  arraignment  and  condemnation,  he  wavered 
in  a  state  of  indecision  more  painful  and  prolonged 
than  any  from  which  he  had  ever  before  suffered. 
During  the  week,  he  saw  Constance  but  once,  and 
then  it  was  on  the  Luneta,  one  evening,  and  she  did 
not  see  him.  He  avoided  her,  having  already 
learned  enough  of  his  own  weakness  to  realize  that  he 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  withhold  something 

275 


DANIEL   EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

which  his  manhood  informed  him  ought  to  be 
disclosed. 

For  a  week,  then,  he  remained  in  this  state  of  inde- 
cision; one  hour  resolved  to  return  on  the  next  boat 
to  the  south,  and  the  next,  to  let  matters  take  their 
course  and  drift  with  the  tide.  At  last,  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  seventh  day,  he  awoke,  determined  to  de- 
cide the  matter  at  once,  that  very  morning,  and  then 
abide  by  his  decision.  If  it  was  to  stay,  he  would 
call  on  Constance;  if  it  was  to  go,  he  would  take 
passage  on  the  "  Diamante,"  which  sailed  that  after- 
noon for  Hongkong  and  go  thence,  direct  to  Iloilo, 
by  some  tramp  steamer. 

He  came  to  his  decision  while  he  was  shaving. 
After  arguing  the  matter  pro  and  con  for  a  week  it 
suddenly  appeared  to  him  in  a  new  light.  Why  not 
regard  himself  as  secretly  married? 

It  would  be  weeks,  in  all  probability,  before  the 
news  of  his  wedding  reached  Manila.  Both  Doctor 
Fairchild  and  Taylor  had  left  Negros  before  it  had 
taken  place,  and  it  was  not  unlikely  that  months 
might  elapse  before  any  one  who  did  know  of  it 
came  up  and  brought  the  news.  Negros  was  as  re- 
mote for  all  purposes  of  social  gossip,  as  Brazil. 

When  Constance  Fairchild  learned  that  he,  Daniel 

Everton,  had  married  a  woman  of  mixed  blood,  she 

276 


PERPLEXITY 


would  despise  him  and  when  that  time  came,  she 
would  not  do  so  any  the  less  because  she  had  learned 
of  it  through  a  stranger,  and  not  from  him.  Why 
anticipate  that  moment?  He  was  fighting  with  his 
own  instinctive  sense  of  what  was  the  manly,  honor- 
able thing  to  do,  and  the  prize  for  which  he  fought, 
was  the  happiness  of  remaining  a  little  longer  her 
friend.  And,  since  he  was  able  to  consider  the  ques- 
tion as  being  open  to  argument,  it  not  unnaturally 
followed  that  he  won  the  fight. 

Looking  at  the  matter  from  every  side,  his  judg- 
ment told  him  that  he  had  a  right  to  keep  his  secret 
if  he  so  desired.  It  was  an  unconventional  thing  to 
do,  but  to  be  conventional  in  this  case,  was  to  ostra- 
cize himself  from  the  society  of  his  countrymen. 
He  felt  confident  that  once  the  fact  of  his  marriage 
to  a  mestiza  became  known  in  Manila,  the  doors  of 
the  American  households  would  be  shut  in  his  face, 
just  as  those  of  Bombay  had  been  in  the  face  of  the 
Englishman  to  whom  Mr.  Marcy  had  referred.  Any 
doubt  he  might  have  had  on  that  score  had  been  dis- 
pelled by  the  conversation  that  last  afternoon.  He 
smiled  grimly,  as  he  thought  of  how  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright's  door  would  be  the  first  to  close  and  with 
what  vigor  that  lady  would  slam  it.  It  never  oc- 
curred to  him  to  wonder  what  Constance's  feelings 

277 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

would  be,  when  that  time  came.  He  believed  that 
any  thoughts  she  could  have  for  him  then,  would  be 
entirely  contemptuous. 

Had  he  been  called  upon  to  decide  the  matter  for 
some  one  else,  he  would  unhesitatingly  have  declared 
that  there  was  no  good  reason  for  remaining  and 
many  excellent  ones  for  going  away.  Being  biased 
by  his  personal  feelings,  however,  he  argued  to  him- 
self, that,  as  the  difficulty  was  love,  it  could  not  be 
augmented  by  his  remaining,  since  he  could  not  fall 
any  deeper  in  love  than  he  had  already  done.  In 
this  he  showed  his  ignorance,  for  the  love  for  a 
woman  like  Constance  Fairchild  can  grow  through 
years  of  association.  For  every  congenial,  happy 
hour  in  the  present,  there  would  be  an  additional 
pang  at  the  hour  of  parting;  a  greater  longing 
through  the  future  years. 

Against  all  cold  reason  in  the  matter,  was  the  great 
force  of  a  long-repressed  passion.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  all  the  best  of  life  was  in  her  voice  and  presence. 
It  was  not  necessary  that  they  should  be  alone  to- 
gether ;  indeed,  it  was  better  in  many  ways  that  they 
should  not.  All  he  asked  was  to  be  where  he  could 
watch  her  face,  and  hear  her  voice,  as  she  spoke  to 
others.  That  was  the  simple  privilege  which  he 
craved,  and  the  more  he  thought  of  the  new  life  to 

278 


PERPLEXITY 

which  he  had  bound  himself,  the  stronger  became  the 
wish  to  avail  himself  of  what  little  remained  of  com- 
panionship with  her. 

The  thoughts  of  that  new  life  were  the  hardest  to 
bear  of  any  which  filled  his  brain,  during  that  long 
miserable  week.  Whenever  he  abandoned  himself 
to  daydreams  of  Constance,  recollections  of  Mer- 
cedes and  their  married  life  came  to  him,  and  he 
shuddered  with  a  self -disgust.  To  say  that  he  had 
experienced  any  great  awakening,  after  his  marriage 
to  the  little  mestiza,  would  be  to  give  a  false  impres- 
sion of  the  light  in  which  he  had  regarded  her  before 
marriage.  He  had  never  loved  her,  and  conse- 
quently there  had  been  nothing  from  which  to 
awaken.  Nevertheless,  little  shocks  had  come.  At 
the  time,  they  had  not  made  much  of  an  impression 
upon  him.  He  fancied  that  he  saw  in  Mercedes  a 
gentle,  pliable,  little  creature,  whom  he  could  teach 
and  who  would  learn.  In  those  days  he  had  had  only 
the  natives  to  contrast  her  with,  and  she  was  as  supe- 
rior to  the  majority  of  the  native  women  as  she  was 
inferior  to  Constance. 

But  now,  with  the  presence  of  the  woman  he  loved 
strong  upon  him,  he  recalled  again  all  those  little 
things.  Once  he  had  surprised  her,  on  returning 
suddenly  from  Silay,  in  the  act  of  chewing  betel-nut. 

279 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

This  was  the  incident  which  had  made  the  most  im- 
pression on  him.  Of  course  he  did  her  an  injustice. 
The  severest  critic  must  admit  that  it  was  no  worse 
for  Mercedes  Paris  to  chew  betel-nut  than  for  an 
American  girl  to  smoke  a  cigarette ;  and  that  some  of 
the  latter  do  indulge  in  that  pastime  and  still  grow  up 
into  lovable  wives  and  mothers,  and  law-abiding 
members  of  the  community,  there  is  no  room  for 
doubt.  But  married  men,  who  are  in  love  with  other 
women  than  their  wives,  are  not  invariably  just  in 
such  matters. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  linger  any  longer  over  the 
narration  of  the  young  man's  emotions  and  regrets, 
for  they  are  not  pleasant  topics.  Suffice  to  say  that 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that,  as  long  as  he  made 
Mercedes  a  good  husband,  he  had  the  right  to  be  en- 
tirely free  in  his  other  actions.  He  would  see  as 
much  as  he  liked  of  Constance  until  she  learned  of  his 
marriage,  and  then 

"  Look  not  into  the  past ;  it  comes  not  back  again. 
Wisely  improve  the  present — it  is  yours. 
Go  forth  to  meet  the  shadowy  future " 

It  was  not  the  first  time  that  advice  given  in 
stanzas  has  been  misapplied.  He  resolved  to  im- 

280 


PERPLEXITY 

prove  his  "  present "  and  let  the  future  take  care  of 
itself.  There  was  sunshine  in  his  present,  and  on 
the  horizon  of  the  "  shadowy  future,"  a  single 
thunder  cloud ;  behind  that,  years  on  years  of  heavy, 
sodden  rain. 

281 


Chapter  XVHI 
SUNSET 

S  the  days  of  that  week  passed  on,  without 
affording  her  so  much  as  a  glimpse  of  Ever- 
ton,  Constance  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for 
his  continued  absence.  At  first,  she  feared  that  he 
might  be  ill,  but  on  the  fourth  day,  a  casual  inquiry 
elicited  from  Taylor  the  information  that  the  two 
men  had  lunched  together.  So  it  was  not  illness 
which  kept  him  away. 

His  apparent  neglect  puzzled  as  well  as  hurt  her. 
At  times,  she  attributed  it  to  indifference,  and 
thought  that  possibly  he  had  ceased  to  love  her. 
Naturally  enough,  this  explanation  did  not  meet  with 
a  cordial  reception,  and  she  argued  that  even  if 
he  had  ceased  to  care,  he  would  still  have  called. 
His  remaining  away  so  long  indicated  that  there 
was  something  stronger  than  indifference  which 
prompted  him  to  avoid  her.  He  was  a  comparative 
stranger  in  Manila  and  she  was  the  only  friend  he 
had  in  the  town.  He  had  been,  in  love  with  her 

282 


SUNSET 

once,  and  even  if  he  had  ceased  to  regard  her  in  that 
way,  he  would  still  be  inclined  to  linger  in  her  vicin- 
ity. Past  experience  had  taught  her  that  a  man 
who  is  rejected  by  a  woman  is  prone  to  linger  thus 
until  she,  or  he,  falls  in  love  with  some  one  else. 

A  few  men  there  are  who  linger  even  after  the 
former  event.  Taylor  was  one  of  them,  and  he  had 
dropped  in  nearly  every  day.  His  visits  gave  her 
much  pleasure,  for  she  admired  the  quiet  soldier  and 
enjoyed  his  companionship.  But  he  was  unable  to 
fill,  in  any  way,  the  void  caused  by  the  other's  ab- 
sence. 

Having  arrived,  then,  at  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
not  indifference  which  prevented  Everton's  calling, 
Constance  determined  to  find  out,  if  possible,  what  it 
was.  To  the  consideration  of  this  question  she  de- 
voted a  great  many  idle  moments,  and  not  a  few 
which  would  not  otherwise  have  been  idle.  On  sev- 
eral occasions  when  Taylor  was  with  her,  he  had  mar- 
veled at  her  absent-mindedness,  and  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright  had  commented  on  it  to  her  spouse,  who  had 
treated  the  matter  in  much  the  same  way  as  he  had 
the  references  to  his  daughter's  matrimonial  affairs. 

Late  on  the  afternoon  of  the  seventh  day,  Con- 
stance and  Mabel,  refreshed  by  their  long  siestas, 
were  in  the  garden  of  the  house  on  Calle  Real.  The 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

latter  had  made  the  tea  and  had  already  finished  her 
cup  and  returned  to  her  novel.  Constance,  who  had 
but  just  joined  her,  was  slowly  sipping  the  beverage 
and  gazing  dreamily  at  the  ships  in  the  harbor.  She 
was  thinking  that  it  was  just  the  seventh  cup  of  tea 
she  had  had  since  the  day  when  she  had  last  seen 
Daniel  Everton.  And  he  had  promised  to  come 
again  "  soon." 

Suddenly  Mabel  tossed  her  novel  aside  and  picked 
up  a  box  of  chocolates.  "  I  have  no  patience  with 
that  book !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  it  ? "  inquired  Con* 
stance,  recalled  to  her  present  surroundings. 

"  It  isn't  true  to  life.  I  hate  books  which  are  un- 
natural." 

"  Perhaps  this  is  only  unnatural  from  your  point 
of  view.  Where  did  you  get  it  ? " 

"  On  the  ship — from  Mr.  Marcy.  This  is  the  first 
time  I  have  had  a  chance  to  read  it." 

"  What  has  become  of  Mr.  Marcy  ?  He  hasn't 
been  here  for  several  days.  I  wonder  why  he  has 
deserted  us  ? " 

"  Possibly  he  has  given  up,"  suggested  Mabel,  mis- 
chievously. "  Have  you  refused  him,  Constance  ?  " 

"  No;  certainly  not.     He  hasn't  asked  me,"  replied 

Miss  Fairchild,  coloring  slightly.    That  the  English- 

284 


SUNSET 

man  had  not  done  so,  was  due  solely  to  the  fact  that 
she  had  declined  to  allow  him.  Proposing  marriage 
was  not  the  Honorable  Charles  Marcy's  specialty, 
and  whenever  he  had  gotten  upon  dangerous  ground, 
she  had  managed,  skilfully,  to  avoid  a  declaration. 
"  You  ought  not  to  ask  questions  like  that,  Mabel," 
she  continued,  severely. 

The  only  reply  to  this  reproof  was  a  low  laugh. 
"  I  didn't  imagine  that  you'd  tell  me,  if  he  had. 
Don't  you  like  him?" 

"Yes;  very  much.  He's  not  over  brilliant,  but 
he's  a  gentleman." 

"  He's  more  than  that." 

"  More  than  a  gentleman  ?  "  asked  Constance,  in- 
credulously. 

"  Yes.     He's  an  'Honorable.' '"' 

"Oh!" 

"  Isn't  that  of  any  importance  ?  I'm  democratic, 
but  I  wouldn't  mind  being  the  Duchess  of — some- 
thing-or-other,  just  to  see  how  it  seemed." 

"  That's  what  one  of  my  friends  is,  and  she  finds 
the  '  something-or-other '  very  difficult  to  get  on 
with.  But  you  have  not  told  me  yet  in  what  your 
book  is  unnatural." 

"  Well;  the  heroine  proposes  to  the  hero,  for  one 
thing." 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  I  should  think  that  was  enough." 

"  There  were  extenuating  circumstances,  how- 
ever." 

"Such  as  what?" 

"  He — the  man  that  gets  proposed  to — is  an  in- 
valid, with  hip  disease." 

"What  happens  then?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  haven't  finished  it  yet,  but  I 
believe  he  gets  well  after  they  are  married  and  falls 
in  love  with  another  woman." 

"  How  ungrateful  of  him !  " 

"  Yes;  isn't  it?  I  don't  believe  a  nice  girl  would 
do  that.  Do  you?  " 

"  Propose  to  a  man  ?  " — Mabel  nodded — "  I 
shouldn't  care  to." 

"  But  suppose  he  had  an  infirmity  like  this  one  and 
didn't  feel  that  he  had  a  right  to  ask  you — -would 
that  make  any  difference  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  would,  if  I  cared  for  him  and  was 
sure  he  cared  for  me." 

"  The  girl  in  this  book  thought  she  was  sure — of 
both." 

"  Then  I  don't  think  what  she  did  was  unnatural. 
Let  me  know  when  you  have  finished  it.  I  would 
like  to  read  it." 

"  Take  another  case,"  continued  Mabel,  settling 


SUNSET 

herself  contentedly  in  her  chair  for  a  discussion  on 
love  and  matrimony.  "  Suppose  you  were  very  rich 
and  the  man  who  loved  you  was  very  poor —  What's 
the  matter  ?  " 

Constance  had  put  down  her  cup  with  enough  de- 
cision to  all  but  crack  the  saucer.  "  Nothing  at  all. 
I  was  thinking  of  the  case  you  mentioned." 

"  Oh !  I  thought  you  had  burned  yourself," 
replied  Mabel,  regarding  her  curiously. 

Constance  looked  thoughtfully  out  to  sea.  This, 
then,  was  the  solution  of  the  problem  which  had  been 
puzzling  her  for  nearly  a  week.  When  he  had  asked 
her  to  marry  him,  three  years  before,  Daniel  Everton 
had  been  rich.  He  was  now  poor  and  their  relative 
positions  were  precisely  those  of  Mabel's  supposi- 
tions case.  There  was  scarcely  any  doubt  of  it.  It 
would  explain  his  keeping  away  from  her,  and  his 
avoidance  of  a  certain  topic  when  they  were  alone 
together.  What  other  significance  could  his  remain- 
ing in  the  Philippines,  after  his  discharge,  have? 
She  felt  confident  that  he  was  not  a  man  to  bury 
himself  for  years  on  a  remote  tropical  island  for  the 
sake  of  making  a  little  money,  unless  he  had  some  very 
especial  need  of  it.  No  doubt  he  saw  before  him  an 
opportunity  to  make  a  fortune  sufficiently  great  to 
justify  him  in  asking  her  to  marry  him.  Of  course  he 

287 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

was  quixotic  and  foolish  to  allow  his  poverty  to  keep 
him  silent,  but  she  could  not  help  admiring  his  quix- 
otism a  little.  It  was  in  keeping  with  everything  she 
had  observed  in  his  character. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Mabel,  interrogatively,  when  Con- 
stance had  been  silent  for  several  minutes. 

"Yes?" 

"  What  would  you  do,  if  a  poor  man  fell  in  love 
with  you,  and  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  propose  ?  " 

"  Nothing;  that  I  can  think  of  now." 

"  Surely  you  wouldn't  allow  the  difference  in  your 
fortunes  to  keep  you  apart  ? " 

Constance  avoided  a  direct  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion. "  Yours  is  an  impossible  case,"  she  replied, 
guardedly.  "  If  he  didn't  propose,  how  could  I 
know  that  he  cared  for  me  ? " 

"  Oh,  pshaw !  He'd  contrive  to  let  you  know  that, 
without  proposing." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you.  If  he  was  the  sort  of 
man  to  think  that  because  of  his  poverty  he  couldn't 
ask  me  to  marry  him,  he  would  be  too  scrupulous  to 
betray  the  fact  that  he  loved  me." 

"  Do  you  think  a  man  can  love  a  girl  and  not  be- 
tray the  fact?" 

"Yes;  I  do." 

"  Well;  I  don't,"  declared  Mabel,  positively. 
288 


SUNSET 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  propose  to  him,  in  any 
event,"  Constance  continued,  with  a  smile. 

"  You're  not  half  as  romantic  as  the  girl  in  the 
book." 

"  You  shouldn't  cite  her  case  as  an  example.  You 
said  that  her  husband  fell  in  love  with  another 
woman." 

"  That  was  her  misfortune,  not  her  fault,  and  it  is 
something  which  might  have  happened  to  any  one." 

"  Possibly.  But  if  it's  going  to  happen,  it  would 
be  comforting  to  know  that  he  did  the  proposing. 
Don't  you  think  so?  What  is  the  title  of  your 
book? " 

"  It's  called  «  A  Woman's  Offer.'  " 

"  Is  it  indeed  ?  Then  I  don't  think  I  want  to  read 
it." 

"  They  say  you  should  never  judge  a  book  by  its 
title." 

"  Yes ;  but  some  titles  are  beyond  the  pale.  That's 
one  of  them." 

"  You  are  too  critical.  It  must  be  awfully  hard 
to  write  good  books." 

"  Naturally.     It's  hard  to  do  anything  well." 

This  observation  was  followed  by  a  pause  in 
the  conversation.  A  pause  which  Constance  em- 
ployed in  forgetting  entirely  what  the  conversation 
19  289 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

had  been,  and  Mabel  in  munching  her  chocolates. 
After  a  moment  the  latter  observed : 

"  It's  a  pity  we  can't  do  with  our  lives  as  the  novel- 
ists do — only  live  those  parts  which  are  interesting 
and  skip  all  that  is  commonplace.  Put  in  a  double 
row  of  little  stars  in  place  of  all  the  days  when 
nothing  happens,  except  having  to  discharge  the 
cook,  or  to  go  and  see  some  old  relative  you  don't 
care  anything  about." 

Constance  smiled.  "  I  am  afraid  that  if  you  did, 
the  habit  would  grow  on  you  dreadfully,  and  you'd 
miss  a  great  many  of  the  small  happinesses  of  life. 
You'd  find  everything  commonplace  after  a  while, 
and  your  book,  what  there,  was  of  it,  would  be  all 
asterisks.  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

Mabel  had  risen  and  picked  up  her  novel.  "  After 
my  paint  box,"  she  replied,  as  she  started  for  the 
house. 

Constance  returned  to  her  thoughts,  which,  for  the 
moment,  kept  her  fully  occupied.  As  she  fixed  her 
eyes  upon  the  distant  outline  of  Corregidor,  she 
noticed  a  column  of  black  smoke  on  the  horizon  to 
the  South.  It  arose  from  the  water  in  a  thin  spiral, 
which,  as  it  mounted  higher  and  higher  in  the  still, 
hot  atmosphere,  broadened  out  into  a  canopy  of  haze. 

A  tiny  black  speck  at  its  base  was  all  that  was  to  be 

290 


SUNSET 

seen  of  the  ship — one  of  the  little  coastwise  steamers 
which  ply  between  the  many  rich  islands  of  the  great, 
unawakened  archipelago.  As  she  watched  it,  she  re- 
called the  odd  premonition  she  had  had  on  that  other 
afternoon,  when  she  and  Mabel  had  witnessed  the  ar- 
rival of  the  "  Isla  de  Tablas."  He  had,  it  seemed, 
been  on  the  little  craft,  just  as  her  inner  voice  had 
said.  She  wondered  whether  she  would  have  any 
such  warning  before  he  came  again. 

While  she  was  indulging  in  this  harmless  specula- 
tion, and  as  tho  to  refute  the  theory  of  premoni- 
tions, a  firm  step  resounded  on  the  walk  behind  her 
and  the  voice  that  she  had  missed  for  a  weary  week 
greeted  her. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Miss  Fairchild !  " 

"  I  thought  you  had  deserted  us,"  she  said,  as  she 
gave  him  her  hand.  He  looked  remarkably  hand- 
some in  his  suit  of  snowy  duck,  and  she  noticed,  with 
a  little  feminine  shock  of  pleasure,  that  the  disguis- 
ing brown  beard  was  gone  and  that  he  wore  only 
the  mustache  with  which  she  had  been  familiar  in 
the  old  days. 

"  I  have  been  very  busy,"  he  murmured,  apologet- 
ically, dropping  into  the  chair  which  Mabel  had 
vacated.  "  Your  boy  told  me  that  I  should  find  you 
here." 

291 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Yes.  We — Miss  Cartwright  will  be  back  pres- 
ently— came  out  here  to  watch  the  sunset  and  to  have 
our  tea.  Can  I  give  you  some  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks." 

There  was  an  awkward  little  silence.  She  wanted 
to  ask  what  he  had  been  busy  about,  and  he  was 
puzzled  to  know  what  to  say  to  her.  There  were  a 
hundred  things  he  might  have  said  but  they  were  all 
of  a  forbidden  character.  He  picked  up  her  book 
and  opened  it  idly. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  of  late  ? "  he  in- 
quired, keeping  his  eyes  on  the  title  page. 

"  Nothing  very  novel,"  she  replied ;  "  a  drive 
every  afternoon,  and  one  dinner,  on  Wednesday,  at 
the  palace.  How  delightfully  un-American  that 
sounds,  doesn't  it — a  dinner  at  the  palace  !  " 

"  It  does,  indeed,  and  the  man  who  lives  there  has 
more  power  in  these  islands  than  most  kings.  To  be 
Military  Governor  of  ten  million  people  is  no  small 
honor." 

"  And  how  about  yourself  ?  "  she  asked,  casually. 
"  How  have  you  been  passing  the  time  ?  " 

He  hesitated,  embarrassed  by  the  question.  Then 
he  said,  "  I  have  been  occupied  with  the  business 
which  brought  me  to  Manila." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  "  she  inquired,  with  an  air  of 
292 


SUNSET 

friendly  interest  which  concealed  what  was,  for  her, 
an  intense  curiosity. 

"  The  machinery  for  our  hacienda,"  he  replied, 
briefly. 

She  noted  the  plural  pronoun.  "  I  didn't  know 
that  you  had  a  hacienda.  What  do  you  mean  by 
'  our  '  ? " 

"  I  have  an  interest  in  one,"  he  said,  reflecting 
that  it  was  useless  to  attempt  any  concealment  of  his 
business  affairs  with  a  view  to  hiding  the  fact  of  his 
marriage.  "  It  is  on  the  island  of  !N"egros." 

"  Who  owns  the  rest  of  it — a  native  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  quickly.  "  That  is — he  has 
native  blood  in  his  veins,  but  he's  virtually  a 
Spaniard.  His  father  was  a  Spanish  officer." 

"  Tell  me  more  about  your  hacienda,"  Constance 
continued,  after  a  short  pause,  whereupon  he  de- 
scribed the  hacienda  in  some  detail  and  even  went  so 
far  as  to  refer,  in  terms  of  admiration,  to  Senor 
Isidro. 

"  How  long  do  you  expect  to  remain  out  here  ? " 
she  asked,  when  he  had  finished  and  they  had  been 
silent  some  little  time. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  "  for  life,  probably." 

She  glanced  away  from  him  and  joined  him  in  his 

inspection  of  some  noisy,  native  fishermen,  who  were 

293 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

dragging  their  nets   on  the   beach   below.     "  How 
about  all  the  rest  of  it  ?  "  she  inquired,  at  length. 

"All  the  rest  of  what?" 

"  Of  life.  You  have  told  me  how  you  propose  to 
make  a  fortune,  but  that's  not  all  there  is  to  be  con- 
sidered." 

"  No  ?  "  he  inquired,  pulling  his  hat  down  over  his 
eyes  to  shade  them  from  the  red  glare  of  the  sun, 
which  had  begun  to  drop  rapidly.  "  What  else  is 
there?" 

She  regarded  him  once  more;  this  time,  curiously. 
The  man  who  had  loved  her  three  years  before  and 
whom  she  had  since  learned  to  love,  would  have 
deemed  such  a  question  superfluous.  "  The  better 
part  of  your  mind,  of  course,"  she  said,  with  a  slight 
accent  of  impatience.  She  liked  to  have  him 
respond  quickly  to  her  flashes  of  thought,  and  felt  dis- 
appointed when  he  failed  to  do  so.  "  And  occupa- 
tion for  it.  Surely  you  must  realize  that  the  life  of 
a  tropical  sugar  planter  means  stagnation  ?  " 

"  Need  it,  necessarily  ?  Why  can't  a  man  keep 
abreast  of  things  out  here  as  well  as  at  home  ?  Are 
not  most  of  the  men  we  know  there  absorbed  in  some 
one  business?  What  does  it  matter  whether  it  is 
work  on  a  Pacific  island  or  work  in  Wall  Street,  so 
long  as  it  is  work  ?  " 

294 


SUNSET 


"  Yes,  but — but  this  is  work  for  nothing  but 
money  ? " 

"  That's  what  most  of  the  work  in  the  world  is 
done  for,  isn't  it  ?  " 

She  might  have  answered  that  she  had  not  thought 
him  like  most  of  the  men  in  the  world,  but  she  kept 
this  opinion  to  herself.  "  A  man  can  have  a  higher  \ 
destiny  than  to  spend  his  life  among  Filipinos,  even 
tho  he  makes  money  by  doing  so.  What  is  money 
worth,  if  life  has  to  be  spent  in  a  country  like  this  ?  "  \ 

He  repeated  her  question  to  himself  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  his  spirit.  What,  indeed,  was  money  worth  ? 
For  the  paltry  sum  of  thirty  thousand  dollars  he  had 
sold  all  the  hope  of  a  life's  happiness — sold  the  high- 
est right  and  privilege  of  man,  to  stand  by  the  side  of 
the  woman  he  loves  and  plead  his  cause. 

"  I  think,"  she  continued,  with  a  touch  of  embar- 
rassment, "  that  very  often  men  attach  too  much  im- 
portance to  money,  and  to  the  necessity  of  having  it. 
It  isn't  everything." 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture  of  protest.  "  God 
knows  I  care  nothing  about  money  for  its  own  sake !" 
he  exclaimed  passionately.  Then  he  checked  him- 
self and  went  on  more  calmly :  "  But  the  want  of  it 
can  make  all  the  difference  in  life  sometimes, 

and " 

295 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

He  broke  off  suddenly  and  turned  to  look  once 
more  at  the  sea.  The  expression  of  protest  passed 
from  his  face  and  it  took  on  its  habitual  resignation. 
She  watched  the  change  creep  over  it  and  marveled 
at  his  self  control.  She  felt  instinctively  that  she 
had  touched  upon  a  great  passion,  which  for  some 
reason  he  meant  to  keep  down,  and  she  admired  the 
way  in  which  he  was  succeeding. 

It  was  a  strong  face,  and  had  in  it  the  story  of 
suffering  without  complaint.  Endurance  had  been 
written  upon  it  in  a  hundred  fine  little  lines,  which 
she  saw  now  for  the  first  time  as  the  soft  light  of  the 
sun  fell  upon  them.  Morally,  as  physically,  the 
ability  to  bear  without  protest  makes  the  strongest 
type  of  men.  An  Indian  becomes  a  Brave  by  bear- 
ing tortures  unprotestingly.  There  are  Braves 
among  the  whiter  races  as  well,  and  they  gain  admit- 
tance to  the  brotherhood  in  no  easier  way. 

A  partial  realization  of  this  came  to  Constance  as 
she  looked  at  him,  and  her  love,  which  was  very  great 
indeed,  took  on  the  most  complete  form  that  the  love 
of  woman  can  assume,  the  desire  to  reward. 
Thoughts  of  his  physical  bravery,  of  his  wound,  his 
sickness  and  his  poverty,  crowded  close  upon  her  and 
she  knew  how  gladly  she  would  reward  him  for  it 
all,  if  he  would  but  speak.  She  was  beginning  to 

206 


SUNSET 

think  that  quixotism  could  be  carried  to  an  extreme 
and  become  a  nuisance. 

"  A  man,"  she  said,  slowly,  tracing  with  her  fore- 
finger the  title  of  the  book,  which  he  had  impatiently 
tossed  aside,  "  makes  a  great  mistake  who  takes 
money  into  consideration  when — when  happiness  is 
involved."  She  paused  and  actually  trembled  at  her 
own  audacity.  She  was  leaning  forward  a  little  now 
and  waited  anxiously  for  his  reply.  If,  after  that  re- 
mark, he  chose  to  adhere  to  his  quixotic  notions,  she 
could  do  nothing  more. 

"  You  can't  lay  down  any  set  rules  about  things," 
he  said,  uneasily.  "  A  man  can  only  judge  accord- 
ing to  his  lights,  and — if  he  makes  a  mistake — abide 
by  it." 

She  gave  a  little  sigh  which,  inconsistent  as  it  may 
seem,  was  half  of  relief.  She  had  done  with  the  per- 
sonal, or  to  be  strictly  accurate,  with  the  general, 
which  is  but  a  thin  disguise  to  the  personal,  and  a 
long  silence  fell  upon  them. 

The  sun  sank  lower  and  lower.  "  I  sometimes 
think,"  she  said  dreamily,  as  the  red  disk  was  touch- 
ing the  sea  to  the  northward  of  where  the  great,  wild 
island  of  Mindoro  lies,  "  that  the  end  of  the  day  out 
here  is  like  the  end  of  life  for  a  soldier  who  dies  in 
battle.  It  goes  out  in  such  a  blaze  of  glory." 

297 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

He  glanced  almost  moodily  at  the  splendors  of  the 
West.  "  A  soldier's  life  doesn't  go  out  like  that/' 
he  replied.  "  Most  of  them  die  afterwards,  in  field 
hospitals,  and  there  isn't  much  of  the  blaze  of  glory 
about  them.  It's  just  fever  and  pain  until  the  end 
comes.  When  a  man  is  badly  wounded  the  glory 
part  of  the  business  is  at  a  discount." 

Corregidor  was  taking  on  the  same  violet  coloring 
that  the  Panay  mountains  had  worn  on  those  many 
evenings,  when  he  had  strolled  away  from  the 
laughter  and  the  coarse  jests  of  his  comrades  that  he 
might  be  alone.  He  recalled  the  evening  when  the 
ludicrous  incident  of  Benita  and  the  shirt  had 
occurred,  and  traced  the  course  of  events  from  that 
time  onward.  He  saw  now  the  strange  fatality 
which  had  been  in  that  meeting.  He  would  be  back 
there  soon.  Through  life  those  violet  mountains 
would  be  the  prison  walls,  which  would  shut  him  in 
with  the  bitterness  of  his  sacrifice,  and  bar  him  from 
the  world  of  life  and  love  outside. 

298 


Chapter  XIX 
SERGEANT  CASSIDY  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

E'S  half  fool,"  said  Cassidy,  scornfully,  "  an' 
th'  half  av  him  that  isn't  a  fool,  is  ginerally 
dhrunk.  Taken  togither,  th'  two  halves  av 
him  is  hell  t'  git  on  wid.  Gawd  knows  what  ud  be- 
coom  av  us,  if  th'  town  was  to  be  attacked." 

He  was  referring  to  no  less  a  personage  than 
Major  Crompton,  who  had  appeared  upon  the  scene 
two  months  before,  and  taken  Taylor's  place  in  com- 
mand of  the  detachment  at  Silay.  The  Major  was 
an  old  man,  and  knew  he  had  but  three  years  more 
to  serve.  So,  after  making  a  survey  of  the  situation 
and  forming  a  pretty  true  estimate  of  the  opportu- 
nities for  distinction,  or  amusement,  afforded  by  his 
new  detail,  he  had  sought  refuge  and  oblivion  in 
drink.  At  the  very  moment  when  Cassidy  was  giv- 
ing his  estimate  of  the  Major's  character  in  the  terse 
words  which  are  given  above,  that  officer  was  snoring 
heavily  in  his  quarters.  And  that  moment  was  high 
noon. 

299 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  De  down  isn't  goin'  to  pe  addacted,"  replied 
Redder,  consolingly.  "  Hi,  Telarama  !  Two  more 
peers !  " 

Senor  de  la  Rama  had  stepped  out  of  the  little  cafe 
for  the  moment,  and  the  muchacho  who  sat  dozing 
behind  the  counter  made  no  sign  of  having  heard. 
Cassidy  took  a  moldy  cracker  from  the  table  at  which 
the  two  men  were  sitting,  and  threw  it  at  him.  As  it 
struck  the  native  on  the  shoulder  he  opened  his  eyes, 
wearily. 

"  Duo  cervays,  machoch,  an'  git  a  move  on  you," 
said  Cassidy,  reaching  for  the  dice  box.  "  I'll  shake 
wid  you  t'  see  who  pays,"  he  explained. 

Redder  blew  a  dense  cloud  of  fragrant  blue-white 
smoke  into  the  air  and  thoughtfully  watched  it  rise 
to  the  ceiling.  He  had  won  ten  dollars  from  the 
recruit  the  day  before,  and  always  had  money  saved 
from  pay  day.  Furthermore,  he  was  a  man  with  no 
family  ties.  "  I'll  dreet,"  he  said  magnanimously. 

"  Oi'll  not  interfere  wid  you  thin.     Here's  how !  " 

"  How ! "  grunted  Redder,  burying  his  blond 
mustache  in  the  foam  of  the  beer.  Both  men  drank 
long  and  deep  and  then  Cassidy  put  down  his  glass 
and  said : 

"  What'll  be  th'  outcome  av  ut?  " 

"  De  oudgome  of  whad  ?  " 
800 


SERGEANT   C 'ASS IDT  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

"  Av  this  state  av  affairs.  What'll  happen  t'  th' 
Major?" 

"Nodding.  N"opody's  goin'  to  rebord  'im.  He 
can  trink  hisself  to  teth,  I  zuppose." 

"  Let's  hope  he  does,  thin,  before  he  drinks  hisself 
before  a  gineral  court-martial." 

"  Dey  nef er  gort-martials  officers  for  trunken- 
ness,"  replied  Redder. 

"They  don't,  eh?  Well,  Oi  tell  you  they  do. 
Whin  the'r'  drunk  on  juty  like  this  wan  is,  most  av 
th'  toime." 

"  He  doesn't  ged  trunk  on  dooty.  He  fills  ub 
effenins." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,"  retorted  Cassidy,  nodding 
his  head,  significantly.  "  He's  dhrunk  now.  Oi 
tuk  th'  mornin'  report  up,  after  mountin'  th'  guard. 
'  Oi'll  take  it,'  sez  th'  Lootinint.  '  The  Major  isn't 
f  eelin'  well.' " 

Sergeant  Redder  took  a  little  deeper  respiration 
than  was  his  wont,  which  was  his  usual  method  of 
preparing  himself  to  ask  a  question.  With  him,  ask- 
ing questions  was  an  effort  only  justified  by  a  high 
degree  of  professional  interest.  "  Vy  didn't  de 
Loodenent  sign  it  ?  "  he  inquired  at  length. 

"  He  dassn't,"  said  Cassidy.  "  It  wouldn't  do. 
Oi'm  sorry  fer  that  young  man.  When  th'  Major's 

801 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

dhrunk,  lie  has  t'  go  ahead  an'  do  th'  best  he  knows 
how,  an'  whin  th'  ol'  man  coomes  around,  he  gives 
him  hell  fer  havin'  done  ut  widout  authority.  He's 
havin'  a  hard  loife  these  days,  an'  no  mistake." 

"  I'd  dake  his  chob,"  said  Redder.  "  I'd  like  to 
pe  an  officer." 

"  You  don't  know  enough,"  replied  Cassidy, 
frankly.  "  An  officer  in  th'  rigular  army  av  th' 
United  States  is  th'  finest  thing  it's  possible  fer  anny 
man  to  be." 

"  How  aboud  bein'  Bresident  ?  " 

Cassidy  was  somewhat  staggered  at  this,  but 
rallied  quickly.  "  That's  th'  same  thing.  He's  th' 
Commander-in-Chief  av  th'  army." 

Redder  regarded  him  stupidly.  The  German, 
while  he  excelled  in  his  knowledge  of  regulations 
and  drill,  as  far  as  the  company  was  concerned,  had 
never  had  the  additional  energy  necessary  to  inform 
himself  as  to  the  higher  departments  of  his  profes- 
sion. 

"  How  can  he  gommand  de  army  ? — He  don'd 
know  noding  aboud  id." 

Cassidy  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  He  don't  have 
to  know  annything  about  it.  Th'  higher  up  you  git 
th'  less  they  do  know  about  ut.  Wan  av  th'  new 

brigadeer-ginerals  is  a  dhocter  and  wan  is  a  cavalry 

302 


SERGEANT   CASSIDT  MAKES  A  DISCOVERT 

first  lootinint;  wan  is  th'  son  av  an  ex-rebel,  an' 
another's  th'  son  av  his  pa." 

"  If  ve  should  have  a  gread  var,  vat  would  ve  do 
mit  men  like  dose  f er  de  chenerals  ?  " 

"  Wait  until  your  big  war  coomes  along,  an'  you'll 
find  out.  We'll  lick  'em,  that's  what  we'll  do." 

Redder  shook  his  head  ominously  and  once  more 
raised  his  glass.  "  A  cheneral  ought  to  pe  a  soldier, 
an'  an  oldt  von,"  he  observed. 

"  Most  av  our  ginerals  are,  and  thim  as  ain't  will 
be  before  your  great  war  coomes.  Besides,  we  don't 
need  ginerals.  Our  company  officers,  lift  t'  thim- 
selves,  can  lick  annything  anny  European  power  can 
turn  out.  You  Dutchman,  you.  The  ginerals  can 
stay  at  home  and  write  their  autobeeograyphys." 

"De'rvot?" 

"  Their  autobeeograyphys.  Th'  stories  av  the'r 
lives,  in  plain  Dootch.  Have  some  more  beer  ?  " 

"  Zertainly." 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  during 
which  their  glasses  were  refilled,  and  Cassidy  lit  a  big 
cigar.  Redder  was  turning  something  over  in  his 
mind.  When  the  Irishman  had  been  smoking  in 
contented  silence  for  several  minutes,  the  German 
said  significantly :  "  I  vas  a  vitness  pef  ore  a  cheneral 

gort-martial  vonce,  at  de  drial  of  an  officer." 

303 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Cassidy  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "  What  uv 
it?" 

"  Zimply  dis.  If  it  comes  to  a  guesdion  between 
dos  dwo,"  indicating  the  officers'  quarters  with  his 
pipe-stem,  "  you  an'  me  knows  vacts — dot's  all." 

Cassidy  nodded.  "  We  do  that,"  he  replied,  "  an' 
what's  more,  your  humble  servint  has  made  careful 
notes  av  th'  dates  an'  other  things." 

Redder  grunted,  as  an  expression  of  the  mutual 
understanding  which  had  been  arrived  at,  and  the 
two  fell  silent  once  more.  With  them,  conversation 
had  covered  twelve  years,  with  short  interruptions, 
and  did  not  have  to  be  continuous.  Besides,  they 
had  consumed  just  enough  beer  to  render  suffi- 
cient, a  contemplative  enjoyment  of  their  tobacco. 
Directly,  a  voice  broke  in  upon  their  respective  rev- 
eries, and  a  familiar,  lanky  figure  appeared  in  the 
doorway. 

"  Hello,  boys !  What  ah  you  all  a-doin' ;  drinkin' 
beer?" 

"  Yis,"  replied  Cassidy.     "  Have  some? " 

The  man  from  Tennessee  shook  his  head.  "  Ah 
promised  mah  ole  mothah  on  her  dyin'  bed  that  Ah 
wouldn't  never  drink,"  he  replied,  taking  a  plug  of 
tobacco  from  the  hip  pocket  of  his  khaki  trousers 

and  biting  off  a  liberal  chew. 

304 


SERGEANT  C 'ASS IDT  MAKES  A  DISCOVERT 

"  Oi  admire  you  fer  sthickin'  to  it,  thin,"  observed 
Cassidy.  "  Moi  mother  was  tuk  off  suddint,  widout 
havin'  toime  t'  lave  anny  insthructions  behindt. 
What  she'd  have  done  if  she'd  had  a  lingerin'  illness, 
Oi  don't  know.  What  made  your  mother  so  down  on 
th'  dhrink,  may  I  ask?  " 

"  She  allus  said  as  how  it  war  the  cause  of  mah 
father's  death." 

"  Deleerium  treemuns  ?  "  inquired  Cassidy,  sym- 
pathetically. 

"  Nope.  Pap  didn't  drink  much  hisself .  He  had 
a  little  still  up  in  the  backwoods,  whar  Ah  come 
from.  He  war  hung  fer  killin'  a  revenue  officer." 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  Irishman.  For  once  in  his  life 
he  had  no  comment  to  make,  and  the  conversation 
lagged. 

The  day  was  very  hot  and  still.  From  his  vantage 
point  in  the  doorway  the  Tennesseean  could  see  a 
woman's  figure  far  down  the  white,  blazing  highway. 
She  was  the  only  human  being  in  sight  and  on  her 
head  she  bore  a  large  basket. 

"  Ah  have  just  come  from  the  officers'  quartans," 
remarked  the  Tennesseean.  "  The  Lootenant  is 
tryin'  to  sober  the  ole  man  up,  Ah  reckon.  The 
Majah  war  cussin'  powahful  strong  about  some- 
thin'." 

20  305 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  It's  about  his  toime,"  said  Cassidy,  contemptu- 
ously. "  He  ginerally  comes  around  about  dinner 
toime." 

"  It's  a  damn  shame,  that's  what  it  is.  Ah  think 
it's  remahkable  the  way  the  Lootenant  puts  up  with 
it.  The  ole  man  talks  to  him  like  he  war  an  enlisted 
man;  worser  than  last  company  commander  talked  to 
the  men." 

"  It's  certainly  remarkable,"  observed  Cassidy, 
"  the  way  that  Lootinint  has  tumbled  t'  his  job.  He's 
learned  more  soldierin'  in  wan  year  than  Redder, 
here,  has  in  twilve." 

The  German  continued  to  smoke  placidly,  ignor- 
ing the  good-humored  comparison.  "  Ah  think  he 
knows  more  about  it  now  than  the  Majah,"  said  the 
Tennesseean. 

The  woman  with  the  basket  had  been  steadily  ap- 
proaching, and  as  he  finished  speaking  the  soldier 
glanced  up  and  recognized  her.  "  Hello,  Benita !  " 
he  exclaimed,  in  greeting. 

"  Buenas  tarde,"  replied  Benita  Llopis,  lowering 
the  basket  to  the  ground.  She  had  not  changed  any 
in  the  year  that  had  passed,  having  already  attained 
so  great  a  degree  of  the  ugliness  of  extreme  age  that 
a  twelvemonth  more  or  less  did  not  matter. 

"  How's  me  old  swateheart  ?  "  demanded  Cassidy, 
306 


SERGEANT  C  ASS  IDT   MAKES  A  DISCOVERT 

with  a  grimace  which  was  intended  to  be  affectionate. 
"  Come  in  an'  Oi'll  buy  you  a  dhrink  av  bino." 

She  shook  her  head,  having  understood  the  last 
word  and  gathering  from  it  his  hospitable  intention. 
"  No  quiero." 

"  What  kin  we  do  f  er  you  ?  "  the  Irishman  con- 
tinued. 

She  shook  her  head  once  more,  whereupon  Cassidy 
rendered  the  question  into  execrable  Spanish,  much 
to  the  admiration  of  Redder  and  the  Tennesseean, 
neither  of  whom  were  scholars. 

Benita  drew  a  note  from  her  breast  and  handed  it 
to  him.  Cassidy  took  it  and  scrutinized  the  outside 
of  the  envelope  which  bore  no  address  and  was  some- 
what soiled.  "  Where  did  you  get  it  ?  "  he  inquired, 
in  Spanish.  She  pretended  not  to  understand. 

"  It's  a  love  letter,  mebbe,"  suggested  the  Tennes- 
seean, humorously.  "  Eead  it." 

"  What  does  it  say  ? "  demanded  Benita,  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Oi'll  see,"  said  Cassidy,  tearing  it  open.  A 
letter  dropped  out,  written  in  a  fine  hand  with  many 
flourishes.  "  Raymimber,  that  Oi'm  not  much  on 
your  Spanish  spellin',"  he  explained  to  his  com- 
panions as  he  picked  it  up. 

He  did  not  read  the  letter,  for  as  he  unfolded  it, 
307 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

his  eye  fell  upon  two  words  on  the  first  page.  They 
were  "  inemegos  "  and  "  Americanos/'  and  as  he 
read  them  he  gave  a  low  whistle. 

He  rose  abruptly.  "  Come  with  me,"  he  said)  im- 
peratively to  Benita.  She  picked  up  her  basket  and, 
without  explanation  to  his  companions,  Cassidy  led 
the  way  toward  the  center  of  the  Plaza.  When  they 
were  out  of  hearing  he  stopped  her  and  inquired, 
"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  " 

"  You  are  his  friend,"  she  said,  dramatically, 
"  and  I  appeal  to  you.  I  cannot  read.  I  love  him 
as  a  son  and " 

"  Stop,"  said  the  Irishman.  "  Go  slow.  Who 
are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

She  glanced  nervously  over  her  bony  shoulder. 
Then,  seeing  that  they  were  alone,  she  continued, 
lowering  her  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  It  was  given  to  me 
by  Jose  this  morning,  to  give  to  her.  I  want  to  know 
what  is  in  it  ?  " 

"Who  is 'her'?" 

"  Senora  Everton." 

"  The  devil !  "  said  Cassidy,  in  English. 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"  I  asked  you  what  Jose  gave  it  to  you." 

"  Jose  Mispall." 

"  Oh !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  opening  the  letter  once 
308 


SERGEANT   CASSIDT  MAKES  A  DISCOVERT 

more  he  began  to  read  slowly,  lingering  over  some 
words  and  skipping  hastily  over  whole  paragraphs 
which  he  saw  were  of  an  endearing  nature.  After  a 
time  he  was  able  to  make  a  very  fair  translation  of 
the  epistle,  which  ran  as  follows : 
"  My  Poor  Neglected  Darling : 

"  My  heart  yearns  for  you  in  sympathy  with  your 
solitude  and  loneliness.  It  swells  with  a  fierce,  in- 
dignant protest  at  the  thought  of  the  neglect  of 
which  you  are  the  victim ;  you,  the  most  beautiful  of 
women,  the  most  unfortunate  of  wives!  Were  it 
not  that  I  see  for  you  in  the  near  future  a  lifting  of 
the  cloud  veil,  which  is  shrouding  your  young  life, 
I  would  despair,  your  plight  would  bear  me  down. 

"  Courage !  But  trust  to  me,  but  believe  in  the 
greatness  of  my  love  for  you,  and  all  will  be  well. 
Our  people  are  arousing,  slowly  but  surely.  The 
hate  of  the  conquerors  grows  daily  and  hourly  more 
intense,  more  fierce.  We  are  waging  a  great  fight 
against  a  powerful  nation,  and  some  say  that  the 
cause  is  hopeless.  But  I  ask  you,  not  as  the  woman  I 
love,  but  as  the  most  reasonable  of  women,  can  we 
lose  if  we  persist?  Already  the  American  people 
are  weary  of  the  struggle.  There  is  a  large  political 
party  which  favors  the  glorious  cause  of  our  national 

independence.     We  are  a  nation  of  millions  of  brave 

809 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

men,  who  need  but  to  realize  their  splendid  future  to 
arise  and  throw  off  the  yoke  which  has  been  about 
their  necks  for  centuries.  We  will  yet  place  in  the 
field  an  army  of  four  hundred  thousand  brave 
patriots  and  then — what  think  you?  Will  our  en- 
emies, the  Americanos,  match  us  with  an  equal 
force  ?  No !  Our  friends  in  the  United  States  will 
be  aroused  in  our  behalf  and  the  American  forces 
will  withdraw. 

"  And  then  ?  Then  I  shall  be  a  general  in  the 
army  of  the  Republic.  Not  three  months  ago  I  was 
in  honored  conference  with  our  great  chief,  Emilio 
Aguinaldo.  He  said  to  me,  as  I  was  leaving  him, 
'  Senor,  such  patriots  as  you  make  one's  heart 
warm.  When  our  great  day  comes ;  when  we  are  in 
possession  of  this  great  country  of  which  we  are  the 
rightful  sovereigns;  when  we  have  expelled  these  en- 
emies; remember  that  you  have  a  friend  in  Agui- 
naldo. You  shall  be  a  general,  if  you  will,  and  per- 
haps the  Governor  of  your  beautiful  island.  I 
salute  her  patriots  through  you ! ' 

"  I  kissed  his  hand,  and  I,  a  strong  man,  wept.  Ah, 
my  adored  one  !  My  queen  of  the  tropic  isle,  we  both 
love !  Of  what  use  is  all  the  worldly  honor  which 
will  come  to  me,  unless  you,  whom  I  love,  can  share 
it?  What  care  I  for  the  sword  of  a  general?  I 

310 


SERGEANT  CASSIDT  MAKES  A  DISCOVERT 

want  you — you.  I  worship  you.  With  every  beat 
of  my  heart,  I  adore  you. 

"  If  I  may  say  it,  what  a  contrast  will  my  devotion 
be  to  the  coldness  of  this  foreigner  to  whom  you,  my 
poor  misguided  darling,  have  allowed  your  life  to  be 
joined.  I  do  not  wish  to  make  your  burden  greater, 
but  I  feel  that  I  must  tell  you  that  he  is  guilty  of  a 
worse  wrong  toward  you  than  neglect.  I  write 
what  I  could  not  breathe  to  you,  if  I  looked  in  your 
pure,  trusting  face." 

Here  followed  an  imaginary  account  of  an  in- 
trigue which  Everton  was  carrying  on  in  Manila, 
together  with  half  a  page  devoted  to  the  expression 
of  Jose's  outraged  feelings  on  the  subject.  He  then 
resumed : 

"  To  be  true  to  such  a  man  is  to  be  false  to  your- 
self. Your  allegiance  should  go  with  your  love,  and 
that,  you  have  assured  me,  is  mine. 

"  I  am  going  shortly  to  join  a  small  company  of 
our  country's  soldiers,  to  share  their  fortunes  in  the 
field,  until  such  time  as  we  shall  be  ruling  in  the 
cities  and  hunting  the  Americanos  in  the  mountains. 
Within  a  month  all  arrangements  for  my  leaving  will 
be  completed,  and  then — then  you  must  come  to  me 
to  share  my  lot.  I  fear  to  send  this  through  the  mail 
as  I  am  under  suspicion.  It  goes  by  the  faithful 

311 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Benita,  to  whom  I  have  been  kind  for  years,  and  who 
is  wholly  devoted  to  me,  and  to  you.  Trust  her  in 
all  things.  She  will  share  our  short  exile.  I  will 
write  again  through  her,  and  tell  you  when,  and 
where,  to  join  me.  Courage  in  the  hour  of  flight ! 

"  At  the  thought  that  you  will  be  mine,  my  love  all 
but  bursts  its  bounds.  My  darling !  How  happy  we 
shall  be  together !  " 

The  remainder  of  the  interesting  epistle  was  in  the 
same  strain  as  the  last  lines  given,  and  Cassidy  did 
not  trouble  himself  to  read  it.  He  folded  up  the 
letter  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  Th'  writer  av  this,"  he  said,  reflectively,  to  him- 
self, "  should  hav*  been  an  Irishman.  If  Oi'd  his 
gift  av  gab,  Oi'd  be  a  lootinint-gineral  in  th'  army  av 
th'  exiled,  perhaps." 

Benita  gave  an  exclamation  of  impatience. 
"  What  is  it?  What  does  he  say?  " 

"  More  than  I  can  tell  you — quick,"  replied  Cas- 
sidy. "  It's  a  love  letter." 

The  old  woman  stamped  her  foot  at  this,  and  called 
Mercedes  by  a  name  which  cannot  be  recorded  on 
these  pages. 

The  soldier  regarded  her  humorously.  "  Well, 
perhaps  she  is,"  he  admitted,  "  but  that's  not  the 

question  of  importance,"  he  added  to  himself.    "  The 

312 


SERGEANT  CASSIDT  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

main  thing  is  how  t'  git  ahold  av  that  small  company 
av  noblemiu  what'll  be  ginerals  an'  governors  av 
islands — if  we  can't  arrange  t'  make  corpses  av  thim 
instid.  Benita !  " 

"Si?" 

"  You  are  a  fine  woman,  Benita."  She  grinned 
coyly,  and  lowered  her  head  with  a  languishing 
glance.  "  Come  with  me." 

"Where?" 

"  To  the  Teniente,  or  the  Commandante." 

"  Is  that  best  ?  " 

"  Yes.  This  is  more  than  a  love  letter.  Jose  is 
an  insurgent." 

"  Will  they  kill  him  ? "  she  demanded,  drawing 
back. 

"  No.  You  know  very  well  that  they  won't,  un- 
less in  battle,  an'  you  won't  find  him  there.  He's 
more  of  a  correspondent  than  he  is  a  soldier.  We 
must  act  together,  you  and  I,  on  behalf  of  Senor 
Everton.  He  is  our  friend." 

She  was  apparently  satisfied  with  this,  and  without 
further  protest  followed  Cassidy  across  the  Plaza 
to  the  quarters  occupied  by  Major  Crompton  and  the 
Second  Lieutenant. 

' 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Second  Lieutenant.      "  There  is 
313 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

but  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  is  to  let  her  get  this 
letter  and  then  wait  for  the  next  one.  We  could 
arrest  Mispall,  but  it  wouldn't  do  any  good  if  we 
did.  The  General  would  turn  him  loose  again. 
What  we  want  is  to  get  our  hands  on  that  band  of 
insurgents." 

He  was  addressing  Cassidy,  who  stood  before  him, 
with  Benita  a  little  in  the  rear.  From  the  adjoining 
room  the  sound  of  heavy  breathing  indicated  the  con- 
dition of  the  Commanding  Officer  of  Silay. 

"  The  only  snag,  so  far  as  I  can  see,"  continued  the 
young  officer,  "  is  what  he  " — indicating  the  next 
room  with  a  jerk  of  his  head — "  will  do  when  he 
wakes  up  and  finds  that  I  have  acted  without  con- 
sulting him." 

In  the  weeks  that  had  passed  since  Major  Cromp- 
ton  had  assumed  command  of  the  Silay  detachment, 
the  Second  Lieutenant  and  Cassidy  had  many  times 
been  obliged  to  consult  together  as  to  the  discharge 
of  the  Major's  duties,  which  usually  devolved  upon 
the  subordinate  between  the  hours  of  midnight  and 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  In  this  way  certain 
facts  had  come  to  be  recognized  between  them,  al- 
tho  they  were  never  spoken  of  openly. 

Cassidy  advanced  a  step  nearer  and  lowered  his 

voice.     "  Beggin'    th'    Lootinint's    pardon,    but    it 

314 


SERGEANT   C  ASS  IDT  MAKES  A  DISCOVERT 

wouldn't  do  t'  consult  him.  He'd  send  out  an'  arrest 
Mispall,  th'  way  he  did  old  Eamus  last  week,  an'  spoil 
th'  hull  bizniz.  When  he — ahem — wakes  up,  it'll 
probably  be  all  right,  an'  if  it  isn't,  sorr,"  the  Irish- 
man hesitated  for  an  instant  and  then  went  on  boldly, 
"  you  just  inform  him  that  you  acted  on  your  bist 
joodgmint,  whilst  he  was  incapacitated  fer  jooty. 
Ivry  man  in  th'  company'll  be  behind  you,  sorr.  He 
won't  dare  say  a  word." 

The  Second  Lieutenant  sat  buried  in  thought  for 
a  moment.  Then  he  said,  "  Yes.  It's  the  only 
thing  to  be  done.  I've  made  a  true  copy  of  the 
letter,  and  if  he  wants  to  arrest  Mispall,  that  will  be 
evidence  enough.  Benita !  "  he  added,  dropping 
into  his  fluent  Spanish. 

The  old  woman  advanced.  He  placed  the  letter 
in  a  fresh  envelope,  as  like  the  old  one  as  possible, 
and  handed  it  to  her.  "  Give  this  to  the  Senora 
Everton,"  he  said,  "  and  let  no  one  know  that  we 
have  seen  it.  Bring  me  all  the  others  that  are  given 
to  you,  and  be  as  friendly  to  Jose  as  possible." 

"Si,  Senorito,"  she  replied,  taking  the  note. 
"  Adios." 

"  Adios." 

She  turned  and  left  the  room,  shuffling  down  the 

stairs  in  her  straw  slippers. 

315 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  It  looks  as  tho  the  war  wasn't  all  over  yet, 
Sergeant,"  said  the  Second  Lieutenant,  his  eyes 
sparkling. 

"  No,  sorr;  not  for  tin  years  yet.  Is  that  all  fer 
now,  sorr  ? " 

The  officer  nodded  and  Cassidy  saluted  and  with- 
drew. As  he  followed  Benita  across  the  Plaza  a 
moment  later,  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  Let's  hope  t' 
Gawd  that  if  there  is  a  foight,  th'  ole  Major  will  hav' 
his  usual  jag  on  an'  stay  home,  so  that  th'  Lootinint 

can  git  th'  credit." 

816 


Chapter  XX 

BENITA  TAKES  A  HAND 

FEW  days  after  Everton  had  departed  for 
Manila,  to  await  there  the  arrival  of  the  ma- 
chinery which  they  had  ordered  from  the 
United  States,  Senor  Isidro  succumbed  to  an  obsti- 
nate attack  of  rheumatism  which  confined  him  to 
his  bed. 

In  a  few  weeks,  many  things  can  happen.  In  this 
time,  Jose  Mispall  had  become  a  frequent  visitor  at 
the  hacienda  and  had  spent  many  hours  alone  with 
Mercedes.  Had  the  shrewd  old  father  been  well 
enough  to  be  about,  it  is  probable  that  he  might 
have  seen,  in  the  changed  manner  of  his  daughter, 
something  to  excite  his  suspicions  and  show  him  that 
the  man's  presence  in  the  house  was  becoming  some- 
what of  a  disturbing  element.  Senora  Paris  was  not 
one  to  observe.  She  knew,  of  course,  that  Jose  was 
frequently  alone  with  Mercedes,  but  after  marriage, 
things  are  permitted  which  would  not  be  dreamed  of 

before.     It  was  not  love  which  prompted  Jose  to 

317 


DANIEL    EFERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

make  advances  to  the  young  girl.  He  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  if  he  could  induce  Mercedes  to 
elope  with  him  to  the  mountains,  he  would  be  in  a 
position  to  dictate  terms  to  her  father.  He  would 
retire  permanently  from  patriotism,  which  had  not 
proved  a  paying  business,  and  live  on  what  he  could 
make  out  of  Senor  Isidro.  The  plan  was  simplicity 
itself.  All  that  had  to  be  done  was  to  persuade 
Mercedes,  and  Mispall  had  not  found  that  difficult. 
Prominent  among  Malay  characteristics  are  pas- 
sion, treachery  and  vanity.  An  ethnological  student 
might  write  a  volume  on  the  race,  and  not  describe 
them  as  aptly  as  does  Mr.  Kipling  when  he  calls  them 
"  half  devil  and  half  child."  Through  her  vanity 
and  passion  and  jealousy,  Mercedes  was  persuaded  to 
do  things  which  set  at  naught  the  carefully  laid  plans 
of  her  far-seeing  parent.  With  her,  the  "  child  " 
was  largely  predominant.  Mispall  had  begun  by 
making  insinuations  and  false  representations  con- 
cerning Everton  and  his  motives  in  marrying  her,  and 
what  the  native  described  as  his  desertion  of  her  so 
soon  after  marriage.  She  was  of  a  jealous  tempera- 
ment and  his  innuendos  had  fallen  upon  fruitful  soil. 
Then  he  had  grown  bolder,  until  at  last  he  had 
reached  the  stage  of  violent  love  making.  From  that 
time  on,  it  had  been  easy  sailing. 

318 


BENITA    TAKES    A    HAND 


Late  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  when  Benita  had 
gone,  in  her  perplexity,  to  consult  Cassidy  as  to  the 
advisability  of  delivering  Mispall's  note,  Mercedes 
was  reposing  on  the  big  balcony  of  the  hacienda  man- 
sion. She  was  looking  out  over  her  father's  and  hus- 
band's broad  acres,  with  something  very  like  a  scowl 
on  her  pretty  face,  which  had  of  late  worn  an  ex- 
pression in  which  there  was  as  much  of  a  spoiled, 
fretful  child  as  there  was  of  the  jealous,  revengeful 
woman.  If  Everton  could  have  seen  her  at  that 
moment,  he  would  have  been  shocked  at  the  change 
which  had  come  over  her.  Just  as  a  face  which  is 
plain  during  childhood,  can  become  almost  beautiful 
with  the  awakening  of  a  noble  soul,  so  one  which  is 
placidly  fair  in  a  state  of  undevelopment,  can  lose 
its  fairness  at  maturity  through  the  agency  of  un- 
restrained wilfulness  and  passion. 

As  the  moments  dragged  on,  this  sullen  look  be- 
came more  marked,  until  at  last  she  arose  and  began 
impatiently  to  pace  up  and  down  the  veranda,  keeping 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  Silay  highway.  At  last  she 
espied  Benita  walking  leisurely  along,  and  her  face 
lightened  somewhat.  She  paused  at  that  end  of  the 
veranda  which  was  nearest  to  the  road,  and  watched 
the  old  woman. 

When  she  chose,  Benita  Llopis  could  be  leisurely 
319 


DANIEL    ETERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

in  her  movements,  and  she  did  choose  to  be  so  on  this 
occasion.  She  even  stopped  altogether,  once  or 
twice,  to  gossip  with  the  wives  of  the  hacienda  labor- 
ers. At  last  she  drew  near  and,  looking  up  espied 
Mercedes.  She  placed  her  fingers  on  her  thin, 
cracked  lips  with  an  air  of  great  secrecy.  If  there 
was  anything  which  Benita  loved,  it  was  an  intrigue. 
To  be  the  central  figure  in  a  plot  involving  the  Amer- 
ican officers  and  Seiior  Everton's  pretty  wife,  was  a 
situation  which  gave  her  a  keen  sense  of  her  own  im- 
portance. Cassidy  had  tried  to  impress  upon  her  the 
fact  that  the  best  way  to  be  of  service  to  Everton 
was  to  expose  his  wife's  infidelity,  and  had  succeeded 
so  well  that  she  was  prepared  to  assist  at  an  immedi- 
ate elopement. 

"  Come  up  here !  "  called  Mercedes,  impatiently. 

Benita  entered  the  house  and  a  moment  later 
joined  her  on  the  balcony. 

"  You  have  a  letter  from  him  ?  "  inquired  the  girl, 
eagerly. 

"  Hush — not  so  loud,"  replied  Benita,  in  a  whisper, 
glancing  over  her  shoulder  with  a  fine  affectation  of 
alarm.  "  Yes !  " 

"  Give  it  to  me." 

"  Do  you  love  him  ?"  inquired  the  old  woman,  with- 
out moving. 

320 


BENITA   TAKES   A  HAND 


"  Ah,  yes.  You  know  I  do.  Give  it  to  me,  dear 
Benita." 

"  And  you  will  take  me  with  you,  when  you  go  ?  " 

"  Go  where — what  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Mer- 
cedes suspiciously. 

Benita  saw  that  she  had  made  a  slip,  and  hastened 
to  set  it  right.  "  Of  course,"  she  said,  insinuatingly, 
"  you  will  go  with  him,  before  the  other  returns." 

"  Give  me  the  note." 

Benita  handed  it  to  her  and  watched  her  nervously 
as  she  broke  the  seal  and  began  to  read.  Then  the 
old  woman  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  Mercedes  had 
no  suspicion  that  it  had  been  tampered  with. 

"  What  does  he  say  ? "  asked  the  servant,  inno- 
cently, when  Mercedes  had  finished. 

"  You  know  very  well  I  can't  tell  you,"  replied  the 
girl,  with  a  blush.  She  had  grown  beautiful  again 
for  the  moment,  for  she  was  thinking  of  the  man  she 
loved  and  not  of  the  one  against  whom  she  fancied 
she  had  a  grievance. 

"  If  you  want  help,  let  me  know." 

"  Yes,  surely.     I  can  trust  you  ?  " 

"  I  worked  thirty  years  for  Jose.  I  have  held  him 
in  my  arms  when  he  was  so  long — "  Benita  measured 
off  about  fourteen  inches  of  her  thin,  brown  arm. 

"  If  you  have  any  letter  to  send  back,"  she  added,  as 
21  321 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

she  turned  toward  the  door,  "  you  had  best  give  it  to 
me.  It  is  safer." 

Mercedes  nodded  and  began  once  more  to  read  her 
letter.  As  Benita  reached  the  threshold  of  the  door, 
she  paused. 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  forgot." 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Mercedes. 

"  Here  is  another  letter.  Your  mother  told  me  to 
give  it  you.  I  don't  suppose  it  is  of  any  importance," 
she  explained,  as  she  handed  the  girl  an  envelope 
which  bore  the  Manila  postmark. 

Mercedes  took  it  and  glanced  contemptuously  at 
the  superscription.  Then  she  raised  her  eyes  to 
Benita's.  "  He  has  been  away,"  she  said,  plaintively, 
"  for  five  weeks,  and  this  is  but  the  second  letter  he 
has  sent  me."  She  tore  open  the  envelope  hurriedly. 
"  Look !  "  she  cried,  holding  up  the  letter.  "  One 
page — to  me,  his  wife !  " 

Benita  shrugged  her  shoulders.  This  was  her 
favorite  gesture,  and  each  time  she  used  it  there  ap- 
peared to  be  grave  danger  that  her  peona  waist  would 
fall  from  her  shoulders  to  her  feet,  there  being  no 
hips  to  arrest  it,  once  it  escaped  detention  by  the  bony 
shoulders. 

"  Husbands  are  different,"  she  said  shortly. 

"  Ah,  yes ;  it's  too  true." 
322 


BEN  IT  A    TAKES    A   HAND 


"  Jose  may  be  your  husband  some  day,"  observed 
Benita,  looking  out  across  the  corn  fields. 

"  He  is  different,"  replied  the  other  happily,  turn- 
ing to  her  husband's  letter.  She  read  it,  and  then, 
rising  once  more,  walked  rapidly  up  and  down  the 
veranda.  Then  she  began  to  upbraid  the  writer  in 
tones  of  passionate  reproach. 

"  He  treats  me,"  she  cried,  "  as  a  child.  I,  his 
wife,  a  woman  eighteen  years  old.  What  did  he 
marry  me  for?  He  never  loved  me,  and  he  didn't 
even  know  how  to  pretend  that  he  did!  Is  he 
superior  to  me,  because  he  is  an  American,  one  of  a 
race  of  cowards  ?  Two  months  after  our  marriage  he 
leaves  me — business,  paugh !  Do  you  imagine  that 
Jose  would  leave  me  to  attend  to  any  business  so  soon 
after  our  marriage  ?  Why  couldn't  I  have  married 
him,  instead  of  a  stranger  who  spends  his  days  in  the 
fields  and  most  of  his  nights  smoking  with  my  father. 
If  my  father  needed  him,  why  couldn't  he  have  made 
him  his  partner?  Why  need  they  have  sacrificed 
me,  a  woman  with  a  soul  ?  I  tell  you  it  wasn't  kind, 

it  wasn't  fair,  it "  she  broke  down  completely, 

and  sank  sobbing  into  a  chair. 

Had  Everton  been  ill,  or  wounded,  Benita  would 
have  nursed  him  and  cared  for  him  with  a  mother's 

tenderness;  but  she  had  no  compassion  with  this  frail 

323 


DANIEL    E7ERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

creature  of  her  own  sex.  On  the  other  hand,  she  was 
deterred  by  no  moral  scruples  from  aiding  and 
abetting  her  in  her  infidelity.  She  thought  that  if  a 
wife  has  it  in  her  to  be  faithless,  the  sooner  she 
elopes  with  her  lover  the  better — for  the  husband  at 
any  rate. 

"  You  reason  finely,"  she  said. 

Mercedes  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  the  old 
woman  with  a  half  frightened  glance.  "  Tell  me," 
she  asked  in  a  whisper,  "  is  it  very  wrong  to  love  as  I 
do,  is  it  a — sin  ?  " 

Benita  indicated  with  an  expressive  shrug  that  it 
probably  was  not,  and  if  it  was  it  made  no  difference 
anyway.  "  You  will  have  to  confess,"  she  admitted. 

The  girl's  face  clouded,  and  she  sat  for  some  time 
holding  MispalPs  letter  tightly  in  her  small  hands. 
Then  she  spoke  again.  "  It  would  be  more  of  a  sin  to 
live  with  him  again.  He  has  not  been  true  to  me." 

Once  more  Benita  shruggeol  her  shoulders.  She 
was  not  sure  but  that  the  girl  was  expecting  alto- 
gether too  much. 

"Benita!" 

"Si?" 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind,"  said  Mercedes,  pos- 
itively. "  I  am  not  a  child.  I  will  no  longer  be 
treated  as  one." 

324 


BENITA    TAKES    A   HAND 


And  in  this  she  was  right.  The  days  when  she  was 
to  be  guarded  and  cherished  as  little  children  are, 
were  drawing  to  an  end.  But  whether  she  was  to 
benefit  by  the  change  from  childhood  to  womanhood 
the  hour  did  not  disclose.  Like  many  wiser  men  and 
women,  who  have  placed  the  conclusions  of  their  own 
fine  reason  against  the  dogmatic,  God-given  laws  of 
right  and  wrong,  she  had  yet  to  learn  what  happiness 

or  pain  might  lie  in  her  emancipation. 

325 


Chapter  XXI 
COLONEL  CARTWRIGHT  TRIES  AN  EXPERIMENT 


|RS.  CARTWRIGHT  inclined  her  head  to 
one  side  and  surveyed  the  table  with  in- 
tense satisfaction.  "  Well,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  I  don't  think  there's  anything  the  matter 
with  that,  all  things  being  considered.  Now,  I'll 
just  place  the  dinner  cards  and  then " 

"  Why  don't  you  let  the  servant  do  those  things, 
Laura  ? "  inquired  her  husband,  who  stood  in  the 
doorway,  looking  very  spruce  and  military  in  his 
white  duck  uniform,  on  which  the  insignia  of  his  rank 
glittered  in  the  light  of  the  table  candles. 

"  Because,  Colonel  Cartwright,  I've  no  desire  to  sit 
in  anyone's  lap,  or  have  the  cards  served  as  a  course 
after  the  soup,  or  take  any  such  chances.  I  know 
these  natives  better  than  you  do." 

Her  husband  advanced  and  stood  beside  her. 
"  We're  doing  a  lot  of  entertaining,  it  seems  to  me," 
he  said.  "  I'm  afraid  that  we're  going  it  beyond  our 
means.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  You  know  I  told  you 

326 


CARTWRIGHT  TRIES   AN  EXPERIMENT 

that  we  ought  to  try  to  lay  up  a  little,  each  year,  for 
Mabel's  sake." 

"  All  this,"  replied  his  wife,  indicating  the  table 
with  its  array  of  linen  and  wine  glasses,  "is  in  the 
nature  of  an  investment.  Do  you  recollect  the  con- 
versation you  and  I  had  some  six  weeks  ago,  relative 
to  Mabel  and,"  she  glanced  over  her  shoulder  to  make 
sure  that  they  were  alone,  "  and  Mr.  Humphrey  ?  " 

The  Colonel's  features  relaxed  into  something 
which  was  about  half  way  between  a  smile  and  a  grin. 
"  Perfectly,"  he  said. 

"  Well ;  it's  all  but  accomplished,  and  if  you  leave 
things  alone  a  while  longer,"  she  hesitated,  searching 
for  words  in  which  to  express  a  delicate  fact, 
"  Mabel's  future  will  be  arranged  for." 

The  Colonel  crossed  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
"  Have  you  said  anything  to  her  ?  "  he  inquired,  after 
a  moment  spent  in  gnawing  the  end  of  his  white  mus- 
tache. 

"  Only  in  a  general  way.  I  have  explained  to  her 
how  she  would  be  situated  if  you  and  I  were  to  die." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"  Nothing — especially ;  but  I  could  see  that  it  set 
her  to  thinking.  I  fancy  she  likes  him." 

"  It  seems  devilish  cold-blooded." 

Mrs.  Cartwright  was  exasperated.     "  Why  so,  in 
827 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

Heaven's  name  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  What  are  we 
doing  that  every  parent  ought  not  to  do?  Really, 
Laurence,  you  try  my  patience.  One  would  think 
we  were  leading  the  girl  out  to  auction!  We're 
simply  giving  her  the  advantages  of  a  little  social 
life ;  she's  never  had  enough  to  hurt  her,  poor  child. 
If  Mr.  Humphrey  likes  her  and  there  is  no  objection 
to  him,  why  not  invite  him  to  the  house  occasionally  ? 
The  mistake  I  made  was  in  saying  anything  to  you 
about  it." 

"  Your  arguments  are  certainly  plausible,"  ad- 
mitted her  husband.  "  She  needn't  accept  him,  if 
she  doesn't  want  to,  need  she  ?  You  haven't  coerced 
her  in  any  way,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  I  have  just  had  one  or  two  sen- 
sible talks  with  her.  If,  after  that,  she  would  rather 
keep  a  boarding  house  or  give  lessons  in  painting, 
than  to  be  the  wife  of  a  nice  young  officer  with  a 
future  before  him,  it  will  be  her  own  lookout.  We 
will  have  done  all  of  our  duty,  at  any  rate." 

"  You'd  better  go  and  dress  for  dinner,"  said  the 
Colonel,  looking  at  his  watch.  She  left  the  room  and 
he  returned  to  the  hall,  where  he  stood  by  the  win- 
dow, looking  down  into  the  garden  and  ruminating 
upon  the  thoughts  suggested  by  his  wife. 

He  wondered  whether  it  might  not  be  possible  that 
328 


CARTWR1GHT   TRIES   AN  EXPERIMENT 

there  was  something  in  this  idea  of  Mabel's  marrying, 
after  all.  Her  marriage  would  change  many  things. 
Of  late,  he  had  become  pretty  well  disgusted  with 
his  prospects.  He  had  been  passed  over  again  and 
again  by  younger  men,  some  of  whom  had  been 
youngsters  under  him,  and  who  were  half  his  age  but 
possessed  of  twice  his  influence.  He  had  attained 
the  age  when  he  could  retire  at  any  time,  and  the  only 
reason  he  had  not  done  so  before  was  the  additional 
pay  of  the  active  list.  As  long  as  things  were  in  this 
unsatisfactory  state,  he  had  felt  that  he  ought  not  to 
forego  that.  But  with  Mabel's  future  assured  by 
marriage,  the  prospect  would  be  different.  He  and 
Mrs.  Cartwright  could  travel,  if  they  wished.  He 
drew  a  long  breath  and  wondered  how  it  would  seem 
to  be  free  to  come  and  go.  On  the  whole,  he  con- 
cluded, Humphrey  was  a  very  nice  young  fellow. 

"  Good  evening,  Colonel !  " 

The  senior  turned  and  exchanged  a  cordial  hand- 
clasp with  the  very  young  man  who  had  been  in  his 
thoughts,  and  who,  as  it  happened,  was  engrossing  a 
very  large  share  of  the  thoughts  of  another  member 
of  the  household,  at  that  moment,  fastening  a  rose  in 
her  hair  and  wondering  if  he  would  notice  it. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  a  bit  early,  sir,"  explained  Hum- 
phrey. "  The  truth  is,  my  watch  caught  cold  when  I 

329 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

was  swimniing  the  Pasig  one  night  and  has  gone  at 
fever  heat  ever  since." 

"Punctuality  is  a  great  virtue  in  a  soldier,  my 
boy,"  replied  the  Colonel,  "  and,"  he  added,  as 
tho  moved  by  a  sudden  inspiration,  "  should  be  re- 
warded. Have  a  cocktail  ?  " 

"  Yes;  thanks,"  replied  the  young  man. 

"  Come  into  my  little  den,"  said  the  Colonel,  lead- 
ing the  way  to  a  small  room  off  the  hall,  where  he  had 
installed  his  writing  desk,  and  which  was  his  favorite 
retreat.  It  commanded  a  view  of  the  garden  and  the 
bay,  and  in  it  he  kept  his  best  cigars  and  an  old  pipe 
or  two,  which  latter  he  was  not  allowed  to  enjoy  at 
large  about  the  house. 

"  The  others  won't  be  here  for  ten  minutes  yet," 
he  said,  as  he  mixed  the  appetizers,  with  a  skill  over 
which  the  subaltern  smacked  his  lips.  "  Cosey  little 
place  this,"  observed  the  latter,  seating  himself  on 
the  table  and  puffing  contentedly  at  his  cigarette.  He 
was  thinking  that  the  Colonel  was  a  fine  old  fellow; 
a  bit  slow-going  and  unprogressive  perhaps,  but  still 
a  devilish  nice  old  chap. 

"  Yes ;  I  think  so,"  assented  the  older  man.  "  I 
believe  in  having  one  room  in  the  house  where  you 
can  do  as  you  please." 

"Freedom's    a    great    thing,"    said    Humphrey, 


CARTWR1GHT  TRIES  AN  EXPERIMENT 

thoughtfully,  "  but,"  he  added  with  a  slightly  bored 
air,  "  a  man  gets  tired  of  it  after  he's  knocked  about 
a  bit — begins  to  think  he'd  like  to  have  a  home  and  a 
— er — family  and  all  that.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

It  was  just  as  well  that  Mrs.  Cartwright,  who  at 
that  moment  was,  with  the  assistance  of  Mabel  and  a 
Filipino  maid  engaged  in  the  process  of  "  hooking 
up,"  did  not  hear  the  reply  of  her  spouse  to  this 
query.  Indeed,  it  is  as  well  that  wives  in  general  are 
not  blessed  with  the  gift  of  hearing  everything  their 
worse  halves  say,  when  away  from  them. 

"  Matrimony's  a  bad  thing  for  a  soldier,"  replied 
the  Colonel.  "  Complicates  official  matters  remark- 
ably sometimes.  The  best  thing  to  be  in  the  army 
is  an  agreeable  bachelor,  with  sense  enough  not  to 
pay  too  much  attention  to  any  one  woman.  If  you're 
that,  all  you  need  is  a  friend  in  the  Senate  and  your 
fortune's  made." 

"  I  can't  believe  that,  sir,"  protested  the  young 
man,  stoutly.  "  The  best  success  in  the  world  is  won 
by  individual  merit,  and  I  think  that " — he  flushed  a 
little  as  he  hesitated — "  a  man  does  better  work  with 
the  right  woman.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Depends  on  what  you  mean  by  the  best  success," 
said  the  Colonel,  ambiguously.  Humphrey  was  not 
listening.  It  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the  early 

831 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

twenties  to  ask  for  older  men's  opinions,  and  then  go 
off  into  day-dreams  while  they  are  being  given.  "  Do 
you  think  we  will  be  out  here  long,  Colonel  ? "  he 
asked,  suddenly. 

"  In  the  Philippines  ?  Yes,  I  imagine  so.  Pretty 
lonely  work  it'll  be  too.  You  youngsters  will  have 
years  of  it,  no  doubt." 

"  Do  you  think  the  war  will  last  as  long  as  that  ?  " 
asked  the  subaltern,  in  some  dismay. 

The  veteran  of  four  wars  sniffed  contemptuously. 
"  War  ?  This  is  no  war.  There  will  be  fighting 
from  time  to  time  for  ten  years  yet.  The  war  is 
over,  but  the  necessity  for  having  troops  here,  isn't. 
It  will  mean  garrison  and  police  duty  mostly." 

"  All  the  more  reason  for  having  a  wife,  I  should 
think." 

"  Good  Lord,  no !  You  don't  know  what  women 
are,  my  boy.  Do  you  think  a  woman  would  be  con- 
tent at  Dagupan,  or  in  Mindanao  ?  If  you  happened 
to  be  stationed  in  Manila  it  would  be  well  enough, 
but  you  won't  be.  The  places  where  a  young  officer 
has  the  best  opportunities  professionally  are  the 
places  where  it's  the  least  possible  for  a  woman  to 
live."  When  it  came  to  the  expression  of  his  honest 
opinion,  the  Colonel  was  swayed  by  no  motives  of 
diplomacy ;  deterred  by  no  recollections  of  the  weeks 

333 


CARTWRIGHT  TRIES   AN  EXPERIMENT 

which  Mrs.  Cartwright  had  spent  over  her  little 
scheme.  In  fact,  the  honest  soldier  had  already  for- 
gotten the  matter. 

The  subaltern  shook  his  head.  "  A  soldier  has  a 
right  to  his  home  life,  I  think.  Needs  it  too,  more 
than  most  men."  This  opinion  was  of  recent  origin 
in  his  mind.  He  had  been,  heretofore,  as  strong  in 
his  sarcastic  denunciation  of  the  holy  estate  of  matri- 
mony as  most  young  men.  He  had  passed  the  time 
when  the  logic  of  the  Colonel's  position  could  appeal 
to  him,  and,  after  a  pause,  continued,  gloomily,  "  It's 
a  hard  life — the  life  of  a  soldier.  It  seems  a  lot  to 
ask  of  a  woman  that  she  should  share  it." 

The  Colonel  adhered  to  the  outspoken  airing  of  his 
views.  "  I  don't  know  about  that.  You'll  find  any 
number  of  women  ready  to  share  it,  when  the  time 
comes.  Don't  worry  over  that." 

Mr.  Humphrey  was  not  really  worrying  over  it. 
The  speech  had  been  in  the  nature  of  a  rehearsal. 
He  meant  to  use  it  again  with  Mabel,  later  on;  to 
show  her  how  unselfishly  able  he  was  to  consider  her 
welfare.  Men  are  prone  to  sneer  at  what  they  term 
"  feminine  logic."  It's  a  singular  example  of  a 
man's ;  this  waiting  until  he  has  done  his  best  to  teach 
a  woman  to  care  for  him,  and  has  asked  her  to  marry 
him,  before  explaining  to  her  how  perfectly  he  under- 

833 


D4NIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

stands  the  many  reasons  there  are  for  her  not 
doing  so. 

The  young  man  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  It's  not 
plenty  of  women  a  man  wants, — it's  the  one." 

The  Colonel  glanced  at  him  quickly.  There  was 
something  in  the  cavalry  warrior's  tone,  which  car- 
ried a  meaning.  What  might  have  followed  if  they 
had  not  been  interrupted  is  purely  a  matter  of  con- 
jecture. They  were  interrupted. 

By  the  time  the  whole  of  the  party  had  assembled, 
Theopilo — such  was  the  name  of  the  head  table  boy 
— had  announced  dinner,  with  a  sweeping  bow,  no 
less  than  seven  times,  very  much  to  Mrs.  Cartwright's 
chagrin.  At  the  rehearsal  that  afternoon  she  had 
endeavored  to  impress  upon  his  slow  working  mind, 
by  dint  of  constant  repetition,  that  he  was  to  an- 
nounce the  meal  when  the  last  of  the  guests  had 
come.  The  result  had  been  hopeless  confusion. 
Left  to  himself  the  boy  would  have  worked  out  his 
own  salvation;  as  it  was,  he  became  hopelessly  con- 
fused and  concluded  that  the  safest  plan  was  to  make 
his  announcement  after  the  arrival  of  each  new 
guest. 

"  That  makes  the  seventh  time,"  said  Constance, 
laughing  and  holding  out  her  hand  to  Everton,  the 
last  to  arrive.  "  I  suppose  he's  afraid  that  if  we 

334 


CARTWRIGHT  TRIES   AN  EXPERIMENT 

don't  sit  down  immediately,  the  cook  will  steal  the 
dinner." 

"  Let  us  spare  him  any  further  anxiety  then,"  said 
the  Colonel,  giving  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Merrill,  the  wife 
of  an  infantry  major,  and  leading  the  way  to  the 
dining  room. 

To  Mr.  Marcy  was  allotted  the  young  and  rather 
pretty  wife  of  a  navy  paymaster;  while,  needless  to 
say,  Humphrey,  whose  step  was  even  more  elastic 
than  the  recent  cocktail  justified,  bore  in  Mabel. 
Everton  took  Constance,  while  Taylor  took  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright.  The  newly-promoted  captain  felt  a  little 
shade  of  regret,  and  wondered  whether  his  two  bars 
were  not  costing  him  rather  dearly.  While  dressing 
for  dinner  he  had  noticed  how  liberal  the  sprinkling 
of  grizzled  hair  was  becoming,  and  how  thin  it  had 
all  grown  about  the  temples.  Then  he  dismissed  the 
thought  as  he  had  learned  to  dismiss  regrets  in  his 
life,  and  made  himself  just  as  agreeable  to  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright  as  he  would  have  done  to  Constance,  had  he 
been  more  fortunate.  Charlie  Howard,  being  an 
extra  man,  sauntered  in  by  himself,  which,  by  the 
way,  was  typical  of  his  journey  through  life.  In 
arranging  the  dinner,  the  hostess  had  had  but  one 
especial  end  in  view — putting  Mabel  next  to  Mr. 
Humphrey.  Beyond  that  she  was  anxious  to  please 

335 


DANIEL   ETERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

everyone,  having  always  a  due  regard  to  rank,  the 
importance  of  which  she  never  forgot.  She  suc- 
ceeded as  well  as  possible,  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
there  were  three  men  in  the  party  who  were  in  love 
with  the  same  woman. 

"  I've  been  admiring  your  decorations,  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright,"  said  the  wife  of  the  navy  paymaster. 
"  Where  did  you  get  your  roses  ?  I  didn't  know 
there  were  any  to  be  had  in  Manila." 

"  Nor  did  I,"  replied  her  hostess,  "  until  they  ar- 
rived anonymously,  for  Constance.  She  should  be 
the  one  to  explain." 

"  I  have  no  explanation  to  offer,"  said  Constance. 

"  Not  even  a  conjecture,  Miss  Fairchild  ?  "  in- 
quired Howard,  tasting  his  sherry. 

"  Not  even  a  conjecture.  There  was  no  card  with 
them." 

"  It's  usually  the  flowers  which  come  without  a 
card  which  require  the  explanations,"  observed  Mrs. 
Merrill,  playfully,  as  she  began  with  her  soup  and 
noticed  the  unmistakable  flavor  of  the  canned  article. 

"  That  rule  might  apply  in  the  States,"  said  Ever- 
ton,  "  but  I  fancy  a  card  is  quite  as  much  of  a  rarity 
in  these  lands  as  a  La  France  rose." 

"  Or  a  beautiful  girl  to  send  it  to,"  added  the  cav- 
alry warrior,  gallantly.  Constance  blushed  slightly 

336 


CARTWRIGHT  TRIES   AN  EXPERIMENT 

and  smiled.  Mabel  felt  just  a  tinge  of  a  feeling 
which  was  new  and  by  no  means  pleasant.  It  was 
not  of  long  duration,  for  the  next  instant  Humphrey 
turned  to  her  and  spoke  in  an  undertone. 

"  I've  got  the  girl,  but  I  didn't  have  the  gumption 
to  send  the  flowers.  Where  do  you  suppose  they 
come  from,  and  which  of  the  three  sent  them  ? " 
Humphrey  had  not  been  so  engrossed  with  his  own 
affair  as  to  remain  totally  ignorant  of  what  had  been 
going  on  about  him. 

Mrs.  Merrill  broke  a  piece  of  bread  and  waited 
until  a  small  red  ant  had  issued  forth  upon  the  table- 
cloth before  raising  it  to  her  lips.  "  I  didn't  know 
that  there  were  any  roses  here,"  she  remarked  to  the 
Colonel,  by  way  of  starting  the  conversation. 

"  They  came  on  ice  from  Hongkong,"  explained 
Mr.  Marcy,  unable  to  keep  his  secret  in  the  face  of 
so  much  speculation. 

Constance  moved  one  of  her  wine  glasses  the  frac- 
tion of  an  inch,  and  a  little  shadow  of  disappoint- 
ment crossed  her  face.  Then  she  raised  her  eyes  and 
thanked  the  Englishman  quietly. 

"  I'm  awfully  fond  of  flowers,"  observed  Hum- 
phrey, "  Aren't  you  Ma — Miss  Cartwright  ?  "  He 
was  quick  to  check  the  utterance  of  Mabel's  Chris- 
tian name,  but  not  so  quick  that  Mrs.  Cartwright  did 
22  337 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

not  hear  him.  She  shot  a  rapid  glance  at  her  hus- 
band, who  did  not  return  it,  being  engrossed  with  his 
dinner  and  Mrs.  Merrill.  On  the  whole,  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright  reflected,  happily,  there  was  no  cause  to 
regret  the  money  which  had  gone  into  the  cham- 
pagne. Mrs.  Merrill  raised  to  her  lips  her  glass  of 
the  carefully  iced  beverage  and  wondered  how  the 
Cartwrights  managed  to  entertain  like  this  on  their 
income. 

Like  all  affairs  which  rehearse  badly  and  discour- 
age their  managers,  the  dinner  went  off  remarkably 
well.  Theopilo  arose  grandly  to  the  occasion  and, 
aside  from  naming  each  dish  with  a  grin  as  he  passed 
it,  was  guilty  of  no  serious  blunders.  Everyone  ap- 
peared to  be  enjoying  the  evening,  and  Charlie 
Howard  went  so  far  as  to  become  involved  in  a  flirta- 
tion with  the  wife  of  the  paymaster;  a  flirtation  in 
which  she  met  him  more  than  half  way. 

"  If  I  had  known  that  I  could  get  flowers  sent  here 
from  Hongkong,"  said  Humphrey,  "  I  would  have 
sent  you  some." 

"  You  must  not  do  anything  of  the  sort,"  protested 
Mabel.  "  How  frightfully  extravagant." 

"  Can't  a  fellow  be  extravagant  once  in  his  life  ?  " 
he  whispered  impressively,  gazing  down  at  her.  She 
was  looking  remarkably  well  in  her  evening  gown 


CARTWRIGHT   TRIES   AN  EXPERIMENT 

of  white,  which  showed  to  advantage  her  really 
beautiful  neck  and  arms.  Mrs.  Cartwright,  who  was 
not  blind  either  to  her  offspring's  beauties  or  de- 
fects, glanced  at  her  once  or  twice  during  the  evening 
and  made  up  her  motherly  mind  that  it  was  now  or 
never.  Certainly  Mabel  had  never  looked  so  well 
before.  There  is  something  which  imparts  a  beauty 
to  the  plainest  women;  it  had  come  to  her  that  night. 

She  made  no  reply  to  his  question,  which  did  not 
require  one.  She  was  making  a  little  calculation. 
If  he  had  graduated  from  the  Military  Academy  the 
year  before,  he  must  be  between  twenty-one  and 
twenty-six,  and  she  was  forced  to  admit  to  herself  that 
he  looked  nearer  the  former  than  the  latter  age. 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  send  you  away  from 
Manila  again  soon  ? "  she  asked,  by  way  of  starting 
him  out  of  an  awkward  silence. 

"  Great  Scott !  I  hope  not,"  he  replied  dismally. 
Then  he  remembered  Dagupan,  and  thought  how  dif- 
ferent it  would  be  under  certain  circumstances,  if  she 
were  there  too.  The  Colonel  was  a  nice  old  chap  but 
he  didn't  know  everything.  "  I'm  ready  to  go  where 
they  send  me,"  he  added  stoutly,  drinking  a  glass  of 
champagne  to  fortify  himself  in  this  military  frame 
of  mind. 

"Yes;    of   course    you   are,"    said    Mabel.     He 


D4NIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

glanced  at  her  sideways,  taking  in  his  bright  new 
shoulder  straps,  on  which  gleamed  the  single  bar. 
"  I  do  hope  this  dreadful  war  will  be  over  soon,"  she 
added. 

"  War  is  the  soldier's  opportunity,"  observed  the 
cavalryman,  who  had  not  been  a  soldier  long  enough 
to  get  over  a  certain  thrill  which  the  very  mention  of 
the  word  "  soldier  "  sent  through  his  healthy  young 
frame.  "  I  hope  for  a  great  war  some  day,"  he  con- 
tinued magnificently. 

"  Oh,  no !  Don't  say  that !  "  protested  Mabel, 
with  a  vague  alarm  in  her  eyes,  which  she  raised  to 
his.  She  had  really  learned  to  care  for  him  in  these 
last  weeks.  Partly  because  she  thought  he  cared  for 
her  and  partly  because  she  felt  the  need  of  loving 
some  one  with  a  love  different  from  that  she  gave  to 
her  father  and  mother. 

Just  then  there  fell  upon  the  company  one  of  those 
sudden  silences  which  do  fall  upon  parties,  as  tho 
in  obedience  to  some  generally  recognized  signal.  In 
it  the  wife  of  the  paymaster  was  heard  to  remark 
sadly :  "  Too  often,  Mr.  Howard,  men  marry  women 
whom  they  can't  in  the  least  understand." 

Howard  looked  extremely  foolish  and  glanced 
anxiously  at  Constance  to  see  if  she  had  heard.  Ap- 
parently she  had  not,  for  she  was  speaking  in  an 

340 


undertone  to  Everton.  Then  he  looked  at  Taylor 
and  that  officer  had  the  effrontery  to  wink  at  him. 
The  conversation  began  briskly  once  more,  and  the 
reply  of  the  special  correspondent  to  the  spouse  of 
the  absent  mariner,  was  heard  by  her  ears  alone. 

"It's  just  six  weeks  to-day,"  said  Constance,  "since 
we  met  you  out  by  the  old  fort  at  Malate.  How 
time  flies." 

"  It  does,  indeed,"  Everton  agreed  gloomily.  "  I 
have  just  received  a  cable  from  Hongkong.  The 
machinery  for  our  mills  has  arrived  and  I  shall  go  up 
on  the  next  steamer." 

Constance  made  no  reply.  During  the  weeks 
which  had  elapsed  since  that  afternoon  when  he  had 
spoken  to  her  of  his  hacienda,  his  manner  had 
puzzled  her  continually. 

There  had  been  things  in  it  which  made  her  be- 
lieve that  his  love  remained  unshaken;  moments 
when  she  would  look  up  suddenly  to  find  him  regard- 
ing her  with  a  look  which  was  certainly  that  of  a 
lover;  tones  which  crept  into  his  voice,  in  spite  of  the 
sincere  and  honest  efforts  he  made  to  keep  them  out 
of  it,  and  certain  gentle,  little  attentions,  from  his 
manner  of  doing  which  she  had  inferred  that  he  had 
not  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  them  for  other  women. 

Indeed,  there  were  a  hundred  little  signs  which  indi- 

841 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

cated  that  he  still  loved  her,  and  yet,  altho  they 
had  been  together  almost  every  day,  he  had  spoken 
no  words  other  than  those  of  a  friend.  And,  woman 
like,  the  longer  he  remained  silent,  the  more  anxious 
she  became  to  have  him  speak. 

"  Will  you  return  to  Negros,  after  that  ?  "  she  in- 
quired. 

He  hesitated,  knowing  very  well  that  he  ought  to 
go  directly  from  Hongkong  with  his  machinery. 
Then  he  reflected  that  he  could  as  well  go  south  by 
way  of  Manila.  "No"  he  said,  "I  think  I  shall 
return  here." 

"  Yes  ?  I  hope  so,"  she  said  simply,  and  turned  to 
listen  to  an  anecdote  which  Mr.  Marcy  was  relating. 

The  conversation  of  Constance  and  Everton  had 
not  been,  of  late,  of  a  character  calculated  to  interest 
them  or  others.  A  man  can  go  just  so  far  in  his 
love  affair  with  a  woman,  without  having  to  be  per- 
sonal. They  can  talk  of  books  or  politics  or  golf  or 
any  other  of  the  themes  of  ordinary  conversation, 
according  to  their  taste.  But  the  time  comes  after 
awhile  when  the  personal  rebels  and  demands  to  be 
heard;  demands  to  become  the  chief  topic  of  con- 
versation, as  it  has  become  the  chief  element  in  life. 
If  this  demand  is  not  acceded  to,  the  conversation 
suffers.  It  becomes  strained  and  forced,  and  split 

842 


CARTWR1GHT  TRIES   AN  EXPERIMENT 

up  by  long,  awkward  silences.  This  was  exactly 
what  had  happened  to  Everton  and  Constance,  and 
the  past  ten  days  had  not  been  very  happy  ones  for 
either. 

Dinner  was  over  at  last,  at  about  ten  o'clock,  and 
the  moment  for  which  Mrs.  Cartwright  had  planned 
had  arrived.  They  had  adjourned  to  the  big  hall 
for  coffee,  and  that  matron  discovered  that  she  had 
left  her  shawl  in  the  summer-house  out  in  the 
garden. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed  quite  naturally,  "  Mabel !  " 

"  Yes,  mother  ?  "  replied  Mabel,  turning  from  the 
window  where  she  and  Mr.  Humphrey  stood  looking 
at  the  moonlit  sea. 

"I  left  my  shawl  on  the  bench  in  the  summer 
house,  just  before  dinner.  I  wish  you'd  go  and  fetch 
it  for  me." 

The  Colonel  overheard.  "  Let  me  go,"  he  said,  in- 
nocently, putting  down  his  coffee  cup. 

"  You  couldn't  find  it,  Laurence.  Whenever  I 
send  you  for  anything  of  mine,  you  invariably  get  the 
wrong  one." 

"I  don't  see  how  I  could  very  well,  in  this  in- 
stance," he  replied,  genially,  "  inasmuch  as  I  pre- 
sume you  only  left  one  there." 

It  seemed  to  his  wife  that  all  the  denseness  and 
843 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

stupidity  of  his  life  had  become  concentrated  and 
crowded  into  this  one,  well-meant,  offer  of  his  serv- 
ices. She  was  about  ready  to  cry  with  vexation 
when,  turning,  she  saw  that  the  young  people  had 
disappeared. 

"  Never  mind,  dear,"  she  said  sweetly.  "  Mabel 
has  gone  for  it." 

The  absence  of  the  young  pair  was  unnoticed  by 
all  save  Mrs.  Cartwright,  and,  as  the  moments  sped 
by,  and  they  did  not  return,  she  began  to  feel  very 
like  a  candidate  on  election  night,  when,  after  weeks 
of  talking  himself  hoarse,  he  leans  back  and  awaits 
the  decision  of  the  fates.  At  length,  when  more  than 
half  an  hour  had  passed,  the  Colonel  observed  sud- 
denly : 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  those  young  people  are  tak- 
ing a  long  while  to  find  your  shawl." 

The  remark  caused  Mrs.  Merrill  to  glance  at  the 
clock.  It  was  half  past  ten,  and  she  had  ordered  her 
carriage — which  was  borrowed  for  the  occasion — for 
ten.  "  Dear  me !  How  late  it  is !  "  She  advanced 
and  pecked  Mrs.  Cartwright's  cheek.  In  the  years 
that  were  gone  the  two  women  had  been  stationed 
together  in  a  frontier  Post.  "  The  time  has  passed  so 
rapidly,  my  dear." 

"  Must    you    go? "     inquired    Mrs.    Cartwright, 
344 


CARTWRIGHT   TRIES   AN  EXPERIMENT 

sweetly.  Humphrey  and  Mabel  came  up  the  stairs 
carrying  the  shawl  between  them. 

"  Colonel  Cartwright,  sir,  I'd  like  to  speak  to  you," 
said  the  cavalry  warrior,  when  all  of  the  other  guests 
had  gone. 

"  Certainly,  my  boy,"  said  the  Colonel,  in  a  tone  of 
mild  surprise.  "  Suppose  we  have  another  cigar  ? 
It's  early  yet." 

"  We'll  bid  you  good  night,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Cart- 
wright,  holding  out  her  hand  and  noticing  that  the 
rose  was  gone  from  Mabel's  hair. 

"  Good  night,  Mrs.  Cartwright " — he  took  the 
hand  of  each  in  turn,  growing  unaccountably  red  and 
dropping  his  hat  upon  the  floor  during  the  ceremony. 

"  Good  night,  Miss  Fairchild.  Good  night,  Miss 
Cartwright."  There  was  a  great  dignity,  and  a  dis- 
tant formality  in  his  tone  as  he  spoke  the  last  name, 
a  formality  compared  to  which  his  manner  of  addres- 
sing her  mother  had  been  frivolously  intimate. 

When  the  women  had  left  the  room  there  was  an 
awkward  silence,  during  which  the  Colonel  lit  his 
cigar  and  Humphrey  made  an  unsuccessful  attempt 
to  light  his,  ending  by  holding  it  in  his  hand,  being 
ashamed  to  ask  for  another  match. 

"  You  haven't  bitten  the  end  off,"  said  the  Colonel, 
gravely  interested.  When  this  had  been  done,  he 

345 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

held  out  the  match  box  again.  In  a  moment  the 
young  man  was  puffing  nervously  and  wondering  how 
to  begin.  The  silence  became  marked  once  more. 

"  Suppose  we  have  a  whisky  ?  "  exclaimed  the 
Colonel,  suddenly.  "  Ginger  ale  with  it,  eh  ?  Theo- 
pilo!" 

"  Delighted !  "  said  the  cavalryman.  The  Colonel 
poured  out  two  drinks,  which  were  more  than  mas- 
culine and  less  than  excessive;  "  military  "  describes 
them  as  aptly  as  a  word  can.  They  had  adjourned  to 
the  den,  and  when  they  had  drank,  the  young  man 
summed  up  courage  to  begin. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  walked  down  Calle  Eeal  on 
air  and  moonlight.  Between  his  lips  was  one  of  the 
Colonel's  best  cigars,  and  in  his  pocket  was  a  La 
France  rose,  which  had  come  on  ice  from  Hong- 
kong. 

The  Colonel,  as  he  sought  the  apartment  which  he 
shared  with  his  spouse,  was  calculating  as  to  dates. 
If  the  young  people  got  married  before  long,  he  and 
Mrs.  Cartwright  could  go  home,  and  get  there  in  time 
to  see  all  the  new  plays.  Later  on,  in  the  Winter, 
they  could  go  to  Italy.  He  had  never  been  abroad. 

When  he  reached  the  room  Mabel  had  been  and 

gone.     There    had   been    tears.     She    would   have 

346 


CARTWRIGHT  TRIES   AN  EXPERIMENT 

waited  to  see  her  father,  but  reflected  that  she  would 
be  in  time  to  see  Humphrey  walk  down  the  street,  if 
she  sought  her  own  room,  directly  she  heard  their 
voices  in  the  hall.  The  atmosphere  was  still  a  trifle 
damp  and  Mrs.  Cartwright  was  doing  something  sus- 
picious with  a  handkerchief. 

"  Well,  Laura !  " 

"  Well,  Laurence  ?  " 

"She's  told  you?" 

"  Of  course.     I'm  her  mother." 

He  crossed  to  the  dressing  table  and  began  to  re- 
move the  eagles  from  his  blouse.  "It'll  be  just  a 
little  lonely  without  her;  don't  you  think  so?"  he 
asked  at  length. 

"  I  don't  think  I  realized  before  just  what  the 
army  is,"  she  said.  "  He's  cavalry  and  you're  artil- 
lery. It  means  a  total  separation." 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that.  I  dare  say  it's  all  for  the 
best." 

"  She  cares  for  him." 

He  made  no  reply.  Now  that  it  was  actually 
settled  he  began  to  think  that  possibly  things  might 
be  a  little  different  when  Mabel  was  gone.  They 
would  be  alone  then,  and  they  were  no  longer  young. 
He  tried  to  picture  to  himself  what  the  house  would 
be  like  with  no  Mabel;  then  he  recalled  what  it  had 

347 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

been  like  before  there  had  been  any  Mabel.  In  those 
days  there  had  not  seemed  to  be  the  lack  of  anything, 
as  there  was  now.  Why  ? 

In  those  days  there  had  been  a  good  deal  of  foolish- 
ness— love  making.  They  were  more  sensible  now, 
and  yet  the  void  would  be  there.  He  glanced  at  his 
wife,  who  was  arranging  some  hairpins  on  her  dress- 
ing table  and  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  floor.  There 
had  been  something  wrong  somewhere,  all  these 
years.  He  was  convinced  of  that.  It  was  her  fault 
too.  She  had  been  dictatorial  and  had  not  listened 
to  reason.  Suddenly  it  occurred  to  him  that  in  those 
old  days  she  had  never  been  so.  But  then  there  had 
been  the  lovemaking.  Could  it  be  possible  that, 
after  all,  common  sense  and  reason  were  inferior  to 
foolishness,  as  guides  to  life  ?  It  was  absurd  that  it 
should  be  so  and  yet — he  hadn't  been  able  to  reason 
with  her  all  these  years.  How  would  it  do  to  try  a 
little  foolishness  again? 

He  crossed  the  room  to  where  his  wife  sat  and  put 
his  hand  on  her  shoulder.  "  Laura !  " 

She  looked  up  in  surprise.  There  was  something 
in  his  manner  which  was  new  and  yet  not  new,  alto- 
gether. "  Well  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  She  doesn't  care  for  him  as  much  as — "  he 
hesitated  an  instant,  as  tho  he  thought  that  he  was 

848 


CARTWRIGHT  TRIES   AN  EXPERIMENT 

too    old    for    "  foolishness."      Then    he    continued 
boldly,  "  as  I  care  for  you,  dear." 

For  the  space  of  a  moment  she  sat  quite  still. 
Then,  slowly  a  soft  flush  crept  over  her  face  and 
neck;  a  flush  which  made  her  look  as  she  had  in  the 
old  days,  and  set  him  to  wondering  if  Time  was  not 
a  lie.  Then  she  arose  and  put  her  arms  about  his 
neck. 

When  he  fell  asleep  that  night,  it  was  with  the 
knowledge  that  his  experiment  had  been  a  success. 

349 


Chapter  XXH 

NEWS  FROM   NEGROS 

APTAIN  TAYLOR  had,  upon  his  arrival  in 

Manila  two  months  before,  been  assigned 
to  quarters  in  a  somewhat  dilapidated  old 
Spanish  mansion  in  the  district  of  Ermita.  It  was  a 
dwelling  very  much  out  of  repair,  and  was  like  the 
house  on  Calle  Real  in  that  it  commanded  the  same 
wide  view  of  the  bay  and  the  distant  shores  of  Cavite 
and  Corregidor. 

Thither  the  four  men  had  bent  their  steps  on  leav- 
ing the  Cartwrights.  It  was  still  early,  from  a  mas- 
culine point  of  view,  and  the  night  was  just  hot 
enough  to  make  a  cold  drink  acceptable. 

"  Why  didn't  young  Humphrey  come  away  with 
us  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Marcy,  when  they  had  chatted 
awhile. 

"  He  stayed  behind  to  propose  to  Mabel,"  ex- 
plained Howard,  putting  his  feet  on  the  window- 
silL 

350 


NEtTS   FROM   NEGROS 


"  Do  you  mean  Miss  Cartwright  ? "  inquired  the 
Englishman,  rather  distantly.  "  I  was  not  aware 
that  he  was  devoted  to  her." 

"  Nor  was  I,"  said  Howard,  "  until  that  little 
episode  of  the  shawl.  I  didn't  notice  that  any  one 
kept  Mrs.  Merrill  out  in  the  moonlight  for  an  hour, 
hunting  a  shawl." 

"  They  were  not  gone  an  hour — really  2  "  asked  the 
Englishman,  in  surprise.  He  had  not  known  How- 
ard long  enough  to  make  allowances  for  a  little  exag- 
geration. 

"  I  didn't  time  them,"  the  American  admitted. 

"  You're  a  nice  one  to  talk,"  said  Taylor,  dryly. 
"  I  noticed  that  you  were  not  wasting  any  time  with 
that  little  navy  woman — what's  her  name  2  " 

"  Agnes." 

The  reply  was  greeted  by  a  general  laugh.  How- 
ard continued  to  puff  contentedly  at  his  cigar.  "  It's 
a  beautiful  night,"  he  remarked,  placidly,  watching 
with  interest  the  signals  which  were  being  flashed  by 
one  of  the  big  men-of-war  in  the  harbor. 

"  Agnes  what  ?  "  inquired  Everton.  "  Or  didn't 
it  occur  to  you  to  ask  her  surname  ? " 

"  Cragin.  She's  the  wife  of  a  paymaster  on  the 
'Nevada.'  Her  husband's  at  Nagasaki  with  his 
ship." 

851 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Why  the  devil  doesn't  she  join  him,  then  ? "  de- 
manded Taylor,  bluntly.  "  Nagasaki's  preferable  to 
this  hole,  as  a  residence." 

"  Don't  know,  I  am  sure.  Probably  by  the  time 
she  got  there  he'd  be  off  to  Chemulpoo.  That's  how 
it  is  in  the  navy." 

"  Matrimony  isn't  always  a  thing  to  be  desired, 
for  a  military  man,"  was  Mr.  Marcy's  comment. 

"  Nor  for  a  civilian,  either,"  added  Taylor.  "  I 
know  as  many  happy  marriages  in  the  army  as  I  do 
out  of  it." 

"  Ideal  life — military  life — for  a  single  man,"  con- 
tinued Marcy.  "  I  wish  I'd  gone  into  the  service 
when  I  was  a  youngster,"  he  added. 

"  Determined  to  remain  a  bachelor  ? "  asked  How- 
ard, innocently. 

Mr.  Marcy  glanced  at  him  with  suspicion.  The 
inference  which  was  obvious  to  the  others,  had 
escaped  him.  "  I  have  formed  no  definite  views  on 
the  subject,"  he  replied  coldly. 

"  Well,  I  imagine  that's  equivalent  to  the  same 
thing.  A  man  who  has  no  definite  views  on  matri- 
mony generally  remains  single.  I  dare  say  young 
Humphrey's  chuck  full  of  definite  views  by  this  time. 
He  probably  knows  more  about  it  than  the  Colonel." 

"If  you're  so  sure  about    those    f babes  in  the 
352 


NEWS   FROM  NEGROS 


woods/  Howard,  we  might  as  well  drink  their  health, 
and  felicity,  and  all  that,"  suggested  Taylor. 

"  With  all  due  respect  to  the  bride  that  is  to  be," 
observed  Howard,  when  the  health  had  been  drunk, 
"  I  don't  see  how  any  one  could  fall  in  love 
with  her  when  there's  a  beauty  like  Miss  Fairchild 
around." 

No  one  replied  to  this  observation.  Then  Taylor 
said,  rather  flatly,  that  beauty  was  not  the  only  thing 
for  which  men  married. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  admitted  Howard.  "  But  what- 
ever the  other  things  are,  I  don't  believe  Miss  Fair- 
child  is  lacking  in  them." 

"  Miss  Cartwright  is  not  beautiful,"  admitted 
Marcy,  "  but  she's  an  extremely  nice  girl,  and  I  think 
Humphrey  will  be  devilish  lucky  if  he  gets  her.  I'm 
not  so  sure  about  her.  He  didn't  appear  to  have  an 
idea  in  his  head,  when  I  was  talking  to  him." 

"  When  a  man  has  been  eight  months  in  one  of  the 
barrios  up  country,  he's  ready  to  marry  his  grand- 
mother when  he  gets  back  to  civilization.  This  is  a 
fine  matrimonial  market.  Let's  start  an  agency, 
Taylor,"  Howard  continued  frivolously. 

"  I  doubt  if  you  could  make  it  pay,"  said  that 
officer,  yawning. 

"  He  certainly  isn't  marrying  her  for  her  looks." 
28  853 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  What  would  you  marry  for,  Howard  ?  "  inquired 
Taylor,  idly. 

"  Half  a  million,"  replied  the  correspondent,  after 
devoting  a  moment  to  consideration.  "  You  men 
needn't  laugh,"  he  continued,  "  I'd  be  as  good  to  her 
as  any  of  you  would  to  a  girl  you  married.  I  don't 
see  why  I  should  marry  for  love,  anyhow.  Love 
never  did  anything  for  me,  except  to  get  me  into  hot 
water  once  or  twice." 

"  I  couldn't  imagine  a  man's  marrying  for  money," 
said  Taylor. 

"  I  should  never  have  supposed,  Howard,  that  you 
were  the  sort  of  a  man  to  have  an  ideal  woman,"  said 
Everton. 

"  Well,  that's  just  where  you  are  wrong  then.  I 
have." 

"  Describe  her,"  said  Marcy,  with  interest. 

"  Well,"  said  the  correspondent,  "  I  think  that  a 
widow,  who  had  been  married  about  two  years  to  a 
man  who  beat  and  neglected  her,  but  who,  at  the  end 
of  that  time,  died  and  left  her  a  million,  would  about 
fill  the  bill.  There's  nothing  like  getting  a  woman 
who  has  had  one  unsuccessful  venture.  She  won't 
expect  so  much  the  second  time,  and  she'll  be  all 
the  more  delighted  when  she  gets  a  man  that's  good 

to  her." 

354 


NEWS   FROM   NEGROS 


"  What  is  the  million  for  ? "  inquired  Marcy, 
densely. 

"  For  Charlie  Howard,  of  course,"  said  the  other, 
regarding  him  in  surprise. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  should  care  to  have  a  woman 
whom  another  man  had  been  beating  for  two  years," 
said  Taylor. 

"Tastes  differ,"  admitted  Howard.  "The  taste 
for  a  million  is  one  of  the  very  few  which  don't  have 
to  be  cultivated,  however." 

"  I  shouldn't  know  what  to  do  with  a  million,  if  I 
had  it,"  said  Taylor,  thoughtfully. 

"I'd  guarantee  to  show  you,"  replied  Howard. 
"  You'd  resign  the  first  thing." 

"  Certainly  not.  I  wouldn't  give  up  my  profession 
for  ten  millions." 

"  Do  you  mean  it,  really  ?  "  asked  Marcy.  "  I 
thought  chaps  usually  resigned  from  the  service  when 
they  came  into  their  property." 

"  Not  with  us,  they  don't.  I  couldn't  exist  out  of 
the  army." 

"  I  have  no  such  sentiment  about  my  profession," 
said  Howard  frankly.  "  I'd  stop  poking  my  nose 
into  other  people's  business  and  writing  ultimatums, 
or  things  I  know  nothing  about,  to-morrow,  if  I  had 


money." 


855 


D4NIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

"  Well ;  that's  the  way  I  feel  about  the  army,"  said 
Taylor,  briefly. 

"  I  must  be  off,"  exclaimed  Marcy,  looking  at  his 
watch. 

The  men  rose  to  their  feet  simultaneously. 
"  Don't  go  just  yet,"  said  Taylor  to  Everton.  "  I 
have  a  letter  from  Negros  which  I  thought  you  might 
like  to  see.  Have  a  fresh  cigar  to  smoke  on  the  way 
home,"  he  added,  extending  the  box  to  the  others  who 
were  at  the  door.  He  followed  them  to  the  head  of 
the  stairs  and  returned  to  find  Everton  sitting  in  the 
window. 

"  Who  is  the  letter  from  ?  " 

"From  that  second  lieutenant,  who  joined  us  a 
few  days  before  you  were  wounded.  You  never  saw 
very  much  of  him,  did  you?  We  will  see  what  he 


Everton  mentally  braced  himself  for  that  which  he 
felt  was  coming.  Affairs  were  approaching  a  climax, 
and  for  some  reasons  he  was  not  sorry.  He  almost 
wished,  now,  that  he  had  told  of  his  marriage  at  first. 
These  two  months  of  sailing  under  false  colors  had 
not  been  comfortable  ones. 

Taylor  threw  himself  into  a  chair  beside  the  table, 
and  opening  the  letter,  which  covered  several  finely 
written  sheets,  began  to  read  aloud. 

356 


NEWS   FROM  NEGROS 


"  Hadn't  you  better  read  it  to  yourself  first  ?  "  sug- 
gested Everton,  interrupting  him.  "  There  might 
be  something  private  in  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  so,"  replied  Taylor,  simply. 
"  The  kid  and  I  have  no  secrets."  Then  he  turned 
to  the  letter  and  began  once  more : 

"  Dear  Taylor : 

"  Since  you  left  this  God-forsaken  stronghold, 
things  have  gone  from  bad  to  worse.  When  I  suc- 
ceeded you  in  command,  they  went  to  the  bad,  and 
now  they've  gone  to  the  worse.  Two  weeks  after 
your  departure,  when  I  was  just  getting  on  swim- 
mingly and  learning  how  to  command  a  Post,  along 
came  a  senior  in  the  person  of  Major  Crompton.  As 
criticism  of  one's  superiors  is  forbidden  by  the  Regu- 
lations (I've  been  boning  Regulations  lately),  I  will 
content  myself  with  stating  a  few  facts  about  the 
Major. 

"  The  night  he  arrived  he  revoked  all  of  the  stand- 
ing orders  which  you  left,  and  which  I  had  main- 
tained. He  said  he  always  liked  to  start  like  a  new 
broom — with  a  clean  sweep.  He  also  declared  that 
he  felt  tired  and  would  go  to  bed  early.  So  he  did, 
at  eight  o'clock,  after  drinking  pretty  nearly  a  quart 
of  Scotch.  Next  morning  I  asked  him  about  the 

857 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

new  orders.  Mad  ?  You  ought  to  have  seen  him ! 
1 1  will  let  you  know  when  I  have  any  orders,  sir !  ' 
he  yelled.  '  What  the  devil  is  the  service  coining  to 
when  second  lieutenants  talk  about  orders !  '  He  got 
drunk  by  four  in  the  afternoon,  and  he's  been  drunk, 
off  and  on,  ever  since.  When  he's  full  he  talks  about 
himself,  and  how  Sheridan  helped  him  to  win  the 
Civil  War,  and  when  he's  sober,  he  gives  me  Hell  for 
nothing.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  satisfaction  of  being  a 
hero,  I'd  resign  and  get  out. 

"The  worst  of  it  is,  that  he  spoils  all  chances  of  any 
successful  operations  against  the  enemy.  About  two 
weeks  after  he  came,  I  tumbled  to  a  peach  of  a 
plot  in  which  several  of  the  so-called  '  loyal '  citi- 
zens of  this  burg  were  implicated.  If  it  had  been 
properly  managed  we'd  have  bagged  a  hundred  rifles. 
I  reported  the  facts  to  the  Major,  and  what  did  he  do  ? 
Sent  out  and  arrested  everybody  that  was  in  the  con- 
spiracy. Old  Ramus  came  over  to  call  on  him  and 
gave  him  a  lot  of  soft  soap.  Swore  he  was  loyal  and 
all  that.  Before  he  got  through  telling  what  a  good 
American  he  was,  the  Major  and  he  had  finished  off 
a  bottle  of  whisky  between  them.  When  the  old 
rebel  left,  the  Major  sent  for  me  and  gave  me  rats  for 
preferring  charges  against  reputable  citizens.  He 
read  me  a  long  lecture  on  the  grave  responsibilities  of 

358 


NEWS    FROM   NEGROS 


a  commission,  and  how  careful  I  ought  to  be  not  to 
bring  '  groundless  charges.' ' 

"  He  seems  to  be  having  a  hard  time  of  it,"  said 
Everton,  as  Taylor  paused  for  breath. 

"  Yes,  indeed;  but  it  may  all  be  the  making  of 
him." 

"  By  force  of  good  example  ?  "  inquired  the  other, 
dryly,  beginning  to  take  some  enjoyment  out  of  his 
cigar.  If  the  young  officer  had  written  so  far  with- 
out referring  to  the  marriage,  it  was  not  unlikely  that 
he  might  omit  doing  so.  In  spite  of  his  being  pre- 
pared for  exposure,  Everton  instinctively  fought  for 
delay.  He  was  inconsistent  in  small  things,  as  men, 
who  are  strong  in  big  ones,  not  infrequently  are. 

"  !N"o,"  replied  Taylor,  "  of  course  not  by  example. 
But  it  isn't  a  bad  thing,  sometimes,  for  a  youngster 
to  have  a  hard  man  over  him.  It  forces  him  to  do 
everything  so  perfectly  that  the  senior  has  no  oppor- 
tunity to  find  fault.  It's  a  quick  way  to  make  him 
learn." 

"  That's  all  right  in  theory,"  replied  Everton.  "  I 
don't  believe  in  that  sort  of  discipline  myself.  That 
it's  possible,  is  one  of  the  lamentable  things  about  the 
military  service." 

"Perhaps   you're   right,"   admitted   Taylor.     "I 
359 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

know  I  sometimes  think  that  the  hazing  which  goes 
on  at  West  Point  is  a  bad  thing  for  the  army." 

"  How  so  ?  I  shouldn't  think  it  would  be  of  any 
importance  after  the  men  graduate." 

"  Well ;  it  is  in  this  respect.  A  man  who  tyrannizes 
over  lower  class  men  at  the  Academy,  will  tyrannize 
over  enlisted  men  after  he  graduates." 

"  Hazing  isn't  tyranny,"  replied  Everton.  "  But 
go  on  with  the  letter." 

"  There's  only  a  little  more,"  said  Taylor,  con- 
tinuing. 

"There  is  no  news  of  a  social  nature  that  I  know  of, 
except  that  our  friend  Mispall  is  very  devoted  to  the 
wife  of  that  man  Everton " 

Taylor  stopped  abruptly  and  glanced  up  in  amaze- 
ment. "  What  does  he  mean  by  that  ? "  Everton 
made  no  reply.  "  Are  you  married  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

The  simple  monosyllable  was  spoken  quietly  and 
when  he  had  spoken  it  the  man  at  the  window 
knocked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar  and  went  on  smok- 
ing. There  was  a  silence  of  a  moment's  duration. 
Then  Taylor  spoke  again. 

"  Kegularly  married — legally  ?  " 
360 


NEWS    FROM   NEGROS 


"  Regularly  and  legally." 

"God!" 

The  man  at  the  table  arose  and  began  to  pace 
rapidly  up  and  down  the  room. 

It  seemed  to  the  one  at  the  window  that  he  was 
more  upset  by  the  news  than  even  its  remarkable 
character  justified. 

"  To  a  native  ?  " 

"  To  the  daughter  of  Senor  Paris."  After  four 
months  of  married  life,  Mercedes  was  still  to  him 
"  the  daughter  of  Senor  Paris." 

Taylor  returned  to  his  chair  and  sinking  into  it 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  Everton  regarded  him 
in  amazement. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  he  demanded,  abruptly. 

Taylor  raised  his  head.  "  Matter !  Why,  great 
God,  man,  don't  you  know  ?  "  He  checked  himself 
suddenly.  It  was  possible  that  Everton  did  not 
know — what  he  did ;  having  learned  it  at  the  cost  of 
many  a  heartache.  His  voice  sank  almost  to  a 
whisper.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  don't  know  ?  "  he 
repeated,  speaking  to  himself,  but  audibly. 

"Know  what?" 

Taylor  paid  no  heed  to  the  question.  Instead,  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  knit  his  brows.  He  was 
thinking  deeply  of  one  whom  this  knowledge  would 

361 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

crush.  He  never  for  one  instant  considered  him- 
self or  the  possibility,  which  would  have  occurred  to 
many  men,  that  it  might  react  in  his  own  favor. 
The  thing  was  horrible.  >  It  was  worse  than  that.  It 
had  in  it  the  elements  of  a  ludicrous  farce — a  farce 
in  which  the  proudest  and  best  of  women  was  to  be 
crushed  and  humbled,  ignominiously.  This  man  to 
whom  she  had  given  her  love  was  married  to  a  half- 
caste.  The  humiliation  of  it  all  was  abominable. 
And  he  could  do  nothing,  absolutely  nothing !  Sud- 
denly he  realized  how  he  would  like  to  choke  and 
kill  the  fool  at  the  window,  the  fool,  and  worse  than 
fool,  whom  until  five  minutes  ago  he  had  looked  upon 
as  the  luckiest  man  alive.  But  then,  killing  would 
do  no  good.  Was  there  nothing  else? 

"  It  must  be  a  mistake/'  he  protested.  "  Some 
beastly  joke.  You  can't  be  married  to  a  native, 
Everton,  you — a  gentleman  ?  " 

Everton  left  the  window  with  a  gesture  of  impa- 
tience. "  It's  quite  true,  Taylor,  and  there  is  no 
joke  about  it.  I — I'll  say  good  night  now,  and  good- 
by.  I  am  going  back  to  Negros." 

He  moved  toward  the  door.  Suddenly  Taylor  put 
forth  his  hand  and  grasped  him  by  the  shoulder. 
Everton  raised  his  head  and  returned  the  other's 

look. 

362 


NEWS   FROM   NEGROS 


For  a  moment  they  stood  thus;  Taylor  reading 
Everton's  face  and  trying,  through  it,  to  read  his 
soul.  This  man  had  saved  his  life.  He  had  made 
the  one  woman  in  all  the  world  love  him.  He  had 
been  a  gentleman  always,  and  now  he  had  given  the 
lie  to  everything  in  his  character.  "  Why  did  you 
do  it  ? "  asked  the  soldier. 

As  Everton  looked  into  his  friend's  stern  eyes,  he 
recalled  how,  officer  and  man,  they  had  shared  so 
many  vigils  together.  It  was  hard,  that  in  all  the 
world  there  should  be  no  friend  left,  whose  faith  in 
him  was  not  to  be  broken.  He  felt  suddenly  a  wish 
that  in  going  out  of  the  life  to  which  he  belonged, 
he  might  leave  one  behind,  in  that  life,  who  under- 
stood. "  Taylor,"  he  said,  slowly. 

"Well?" 

"  Will  you  swear  to  me  on  your  honor  as  a  man 
and  a  soldier  never  to  breathe  a  word  of  it,  if  I  tell 
you?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Taylor,  simply.     "  I  swear  it." 

"  Then — I  married  for  money;  and  I  had  to  have 
the  money  to  save  some  one  from  conviction  for  a 
crime." 

Taylor  did  not  speak  at  once,  but  something  in 
his  face  changed.  "  One  who  had  a  claim  on  you  ?  " 

"  The  very  highest  claim,  perhaps." 
363 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

The  grip  on  the  shoulder  loosened  and,  glancing 
down,  Everton  saw  that  Taylor's  hand  was  out- 
stretched. Neither  spoke  as  he  took  it,  and  when 
their  hands  had  been  clasped  for  a  long  moment, 
Everton  quietly  picked  up  his  hat. 

"  Good  night." 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  to  me  ?  "  said  Taylor,  in  a 
voice  which  had  the  note  of  tears  in  it.  "  I've  got 
a  little  property,  and  you  could  have  had  it  all." 

"  The  amount — was  thirty  thousand  dollars,  and — 
I  couldn't  have  taken  yours,  anyway." 

"  I  haven't  anything  like  that,"  Taylor  admitted, 
sadly.  "  But  we  might  have  done  something,  I  wish 
you  had  come  to  me." 

"  I'm  the  one  to  suffer,  old  man."  Everton  was 
at  the  door.  The  other  did  not  contradict  him. 
"  I'm  the  one  it  hits,  you  know.  I  shan't  be  able  to 
associate  with  people,  now  that  it's  known,"  he  flushed 
and  laughed  nervously.  "  I'm  glad,"  he  went  on, 
"  that  it's  only  myself.  It  would  be  different,  if  I 
had  a  mother  or  sisters." 

"  Yes ;  it's  good  that  it's  only  you,"  said  the  man 
who  knew. 

The  man  who  did  not  know,  went  down  the  stairs, 

and  out  into  the  street. 

364 


Chapter  XXIII 
CONSTANCE 


OCO   tiempo,    Senor,"    explained   Theopilo, 
with  a  deep  bow. 

Everton  nodded  and  turned  toward  the 
window.  The  native  withdrew,  seeking  those 
domestic  regions  of  the  house  wherein  he  was  wont 
to  officiate  as  majordomo,  and  where  he  spent  the  re- 
mainder of  the  morning  in  doing  as  little  work,  in 
as  much  time,  as  possible.  And  very  great  feats  of 
laziness  are  possible  to  one  whose  Malay  indolence 
has  been  accentuated  by  a  Spanish  education.  ' 

It  was  only  half  past  ten  o'clock,  and  the  man  who 
stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  glassy  surface  of  the 
harbor,  had  come  at  a  most  unconventional  hour. 
News  of  a  certain  kind  is  noted  for  the  rapidity  with 
which  it  travels,  and  he  had  laid  no  injunctions  as  to 
secrecy  upon  Taylor,  the  previous  night. 

The  morning  was  hot  and  still,  and  yet  his  hands 
were  cold.  This  was  the  only  external  sign  he  gave 

of  the  despair  which  had  settled  upon  him.     In  other 

365 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

respects  he,  who  had  tried  to  school  himself  to  bear 
all  things  with  the  simple,  unquestioning  fortitude  of 
military  discipline,  was  to  outward  appearance  quite 
as  usual. 

He  was  there  to  state  a  fact,  because  he  preferred 
that  she  learn  it  from  him,  rather  than  from  another, 
and  when  he  had  done  so,  he  would  go  away.  There 
would  be  no  explanation,  of  course.  That  was  out 
of  the  question.  She  would  feel  towards  him  as  a 
woman  of  refined  sensibilities  should,  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, and  she  would  treat  him  with  a  civility 
which  would  veil  her  contempt,  at  least  until  he  was 
out  of  her  presence.  Indeed,  he  had,  during  the 
long  watches  of  the  night,  lived  through  the  scene 
many  times.  He  knew  just  what  to  say  to  her  and 
just  what  she  would  reply,  and  he  believed  that  he 
had  more  than  discounted  all  the  humiliation  that 
was  to  be  his. 

He  was  calm,  with  the  composure  of  one  who  has 
made  up  his  mind  to  face  injustice,  and  who,  by 
anticipation,  has  robbed  it  of  its  sting.  And  then, 
just  at  the  one  moment  of  his  life,  when  he  stood 
most  in  need  of  his  composure  and  his  self  control, 
they  both  deserted  him. 

Tired  of  his  inspection  of  the  ships  which  lay  at 
anchor  in  the  bay,  he  left  the  window  and  ap- 

366 


CONSTANCE 


preached  the  big  table  in  the  center  of  the  hall.  On 
it  were  scattered  several  books  and  papers,  an  empty 
box  which  had  once  contained  Mabel's  chocolates, 
and,  on  the  side  nearest  to  him,  a  woman's  handker- 
chief. 

Constance  Fairchild  was  one  to  impress  upon  the 
inanimate  objects  which  belonged  to  her,  a  distinct 
personality,  which  was,  as  it  were,  an  offshoot  of  her 
own.  He  knew  that  the  delicate  little  fabric  was 
hers,  even  before  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  fine  em- 
broidered monogram.  It  suggested  all  that  was 
womanly  and  soft  and  tender,  all  of  the  woman  in 
her,  for  which  the  man  in  him  had  yearned  so  hope- 
lessly. Suddenly  a  strong  realization  of  what  her 
love  might  have  been  to  him,  broke  in  upon  his  mind 
through  the  barriers  which  his  fortitude  had  erected. 
In  that  one  moment  he  realized,  for  the  first  time,  all 
the  difference  that  there  is  between  life  with  the  One 
Woman,  and  life  without  her.  The  primitive  forces 
of  his  nature,  engrossed  in  a  great  love,  rose  up  in 
protest  against  the  long  denial.  Unconsciously  he 
groaned  aloud,  and  carried  the  handkerchief  to  his 
lips. 

It  was  soft  and  cool,  and  yielded  no  perfume  but 
the  faint  suggestion  of  fine  linen.  He  closed  his 

eyes,  that  by  shutting  out  the  sight  of  all  other  things 

367 


DANIEL    EFERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

he  might  revel  in  the  sense  of  intimacy  with  her. 
Then  he  opened  them  to  find  hers  fixed  upon  him 
with  the  holiness  and  gravity  of  love. 

She  had  entered  during  that  moment  when  he  had 
been  too  engrossed  with  the  flood  of  his  emotion, 
to  heed  her  footstep.  He  raised  his  head  quickly 
and  dropped  his  hands  to  his  side,  assuming  almost  the 
position  of  "  attention."  For  an  instant  neither 
spoke.  He  had  been  taken  completely  by  surprise 
and  had  no  words  at  his  command.  Before  any 
came  to  him  she  acted  upon  an  impulse  as  strong  and 
irresistible  as  his  own  had  been.  Advancing  a  step 
she  stretched  out  her  hand  and  spoke. 
"  Then  you  still  care  for  me,  Daniel  ?  " 
There  is  that  about  the  old  Biblical  names  which 
gives  them  a  wonderful,  quaint  sweetness  on  the  lips 
of  a  woman  who  loves.  A  man  never  really  hears 
his  Christian  name  until  it  is  spoken  for  the  first  time 
by  the  One  Woman.  As  he  heard  his  now,  the 
scales  fell  from  his  eyes,  and  he  knew  of  that  which 
had  been  paramount  in  her  life  so  long.  With  that 
knowledge  came  the  thought  that  this  had  been 
brought  about  by  his  silence,  and  he  believed  that  in 
the  gratification  of  a  selfish  desire,  he  had  sacrificed 
her.  Gradually,  as  he  saw  it  all,  the  color  forsook 
his  face,  leaving  it  ashen  gray,  and  he  felt  the  soul 

368 


CONSTANCE 


sickness  of  one  who  had  done  a  great  wrong,  uninten- 
tionally. Without  thinking,  he  answered  her.  In- 
deed, it  seemed  to  him  that  there  was  but  one  answer 
possible.  Now  that  she  had  made  her  unconscious 
confession,  he  could  not  crush  her  pride  by  saying 
"  No,"  and  besides,  it  would  be  a  lie. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  slowly,  in  a  voice  which  he 
scarcely  recognized,  and  which  sounded  strangely  in 
her  ears.  It  was  not  the  happy  declaration  of  a 
lover;  it  was  more  like  the  desperate  confession  of  a 
man  driven  to  bay.  She  could  see  from  his  face  that 
he  was  suffering,  as  it  is  not  given  to  men  to  suffer 
for  many  hours  in  their  lives.  She  forgot  herself 
utterly  in  a  great  desire  to  help  him. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  she  entreated,  coming  quite  close 
to  him,  and  looking  into  his  eyes  with  a  look  which 
was  part  perplexity  and  anxious  fear,  but  altogether 
love.  "  What  is  it— dear?  I " 

He  roused  himself  and  put  out  his  hand  implor- 
ingly. "  Stop,  for  God's  sake !  " 

She  recoiled  quickly  and  stood  quite  still,  regard- 
ing him  with  amazement.  As  she  did  so  there  crept 
into  her  heart  a  strange,  benumbing  fear.  He  had 
said  that  he  loved  her,  and  yet  there  was  something 
here,  for  which  she  was  totally  unprepared.  In  the 
agonized  face  of  the  man  before  her,  she  saw  no 
24  369 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

happiness,  such  as  she  had  thought  to  find  there, 
when  she  should  tell  him  of  her  love. 

"  You  must  not  go  on,"  he  continued,  hoarsely. 
"  I  had  no  right  to  tell  you.  I — I  meant  to  conceal 
it — always.  There  is  something  which  you  do  not 
know,  something  I  must  tell  you.  I  see  now  that — 
that  I  should  have  done  so  before,  but  I — "  He 
broke  off  suddenly,  unable  to  continue,  and  turned 
toward  the  window. 

Without,  the  water  was  ablaze  with  the  same 
glassy  surface,  and  the  ships  in  the  harbor  looked 
just  as  they  had  done  a  few  minutes  before;  but 
everything  else  in  the  world  was  changed. 

It  had  seemed  to  him,  when  he  had  first  entered 
that  room  and  looked  out  upon  that  scene,  that  there 
was  nothing  to  be  added  to  his  cup  of  bitterness. 
He  had  felt  that  he  was  beyond  the  reach  of  any 
additional  pain.  He  realized  his  mistake  now.  The 
burden  had  been  heavy  enough  before,  but  it  had 
been  upon  his  shoulders  then.  Now  she  was  to  bear 
her  share.  He  had  perhaps  deserved  his.  She  had 
done  nothing  to  merit  hers,  and,  if  he  read  the  pride 
and  love  of  her  nature  aright,  it  would  crush  her,  as 
it  had  never  crushed  him. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said,  quietly.     "  Why  don't  you  go 

on?" 

370 


Well?"  she  said,  quietly. 
"  Why  don't  yau  go  on?  " 


CONSTANCE 


He  drew  a  deep  inspiration,  keeping  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  big,  black,  British  cruiser,  which  lay  the 
farthest  out  of  all  the  ships. 

"  I  was  married,"  he  said,  in  a  hard,  dry  voice — 
"  I  was  married  four  months  ago  to  the  daughter 
of  Senor  Paris,  my  business  partner." 

A  thin  veil  of  smoke  began  to  rise  from  one  of  the 
funnels  of  the  big  cruiser.  He  watched  it  float 
astern  and  sink  upon  the  water,  for  want  of  a  breath 
of  air  to  carry  it  upwards.  The  distant  shore-line  of 
Cavite  was  radiating  heat,  and  Corregidor  was  dis- 
solving and  vanishing  in  a  red  haze.  A  little  travel- 
ing clock  behind  him  began,  suddenly,  to  tick.  That 
was  the  only  sound. 

He  did  not  turn.  A  certain  instinct  of  his  being, 
which  was  the  instinct  of  a  gentleman,  told  him  not 
to  look  at  her.  The  clock  ticked  on  and  it  seemed  to 
him  that  each  tick  represented  a  year  of  his  life.  He 
grew  old  rapidly  during  that  moment.  At  last, 
when  he  could  endure  the  silence  no  longer,  he 
turned. 

She  was  standing  with  her  back  to  him,  one  hand 
resting  on  the  table.  "  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  of 
this  before  ?  "  she  added,  quietly.  The  clock  stopped 
ticking  once  more. 

Of  all  the  questions  she  could  have  put  to  him, 
371 


DANIEL   EVERTQN,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

this  was,  perhaps,  the  most  difficult  to  answer.  After 
pausing  an  instant  for  him  to  do  so,  she  continued: 
"  It  would  have  been — kinder,  if  you  had  done  so,  I 
think." 

The  very  gentleness  of  the  reproach  wounded  him 
sorely.  The  dignity  of  it  was  what  he  might  have 
expected.  After  what  she  had  said,  she  would  make 
no  effort  to  recall  the  admission  of  love  which  she 
had  made  to  him,  however  bitterly  she  might  re- 
gret it. 

"  I  did  not  know — I  had  no  idea  that  you  would 
ever  care.  I  just  wanted  to  be  near  you  a  little 
longer  to  have  one — last  bit  of  happiness.  I " 

"Stop!" 

She  turned  and  faced  him  steadily,  with  eyes  from 
which  all  the  love  had  vanished.  "  Please  remember 
what  you  told  me  just  now.  After  that — after  that, 
any  words  of  love  from  you  can  be  nothing  but  an 
insult." 

The  tone  cut  him  far  more  than  the  words.  The 
contempt  which  he  had  anticipated  was  just  begin- 
ning to  manifest  itself.  He  did  not  intend  to  accept 
this  attitude  without  protest,  however.  The  whole 
situation  was  damnable  enough  without  her  think- 
ing that  he  wished  to  speak  to  her  as  he  had  no  right 
to  speak. 

372 


CONSTANCE 


"  You  are  mistaken,"  he  said,  raising  his  head  and 
regarding  her  as  fearlessly  as  she  had  him,  for  from 
this  imputation,  at  least,  he  could  clear  himself. 
"  You  are  mistaken.  The  love  of  no  man,  or  of  no 
dog,  for  that  matter,  is  an  insult  until  it  begins  to 
demand." 

She  turned  away  with  a  gesture  of  impatience,  and 
sank  upon  the  big  cane  divan,  clasping  her  hands  and 
looking  steadily  away  from  him  towards  the  window. 
Then  she  spoke  again. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  only  intended  to  stop 
you — to  prevent  your  saying  that  which  I  did  not 
wish  to  hear,  that  was  all." 

For  a  long  time  she  sat  thus,  while  he  stood  by  the 
table  watching  her.  Neither  realized  how  long  it 
was  before  she  spoke  again,  for  the  thoughts  which 
crowded  through  the  mind  of  each,  were  such  as  to 
render  them  insensible  to  time. 

She  thought,  first,  of  what  he  had  just  said  and 
her  reply;  then,  of  how  she  had  waited  so  many 
weeks  to  hear  the  very  words  to  which  she  now  re- 
fused to  listen.  She  smiled  bitterly  at  this  recollec- 
tion. Already  the  work  of  disillusion  had  begun. 

Of  all  the  thoughts  which  came  to  him,  one  was 
uppermost.  This  was  the  last  time  he  should  see 

her.     He  regarded  her  steadily  with  the  intensity 

373 


DANIEL   EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

with  which  one  stands  by  the  side  of  a  coffin  and 
stares  at  the  features  of  the  beloved  dead.  There 
are  many  things  which  combine  in  a  man's  heart  at 
that  moment,  pain,  protest,  the  struggle  against  fate, 
and  the  refusal  of  the  soul  to  believe  that  it  is  the 
last  time.  All  of  these  were  in  his  heart  at  that 
moment. 

"  If  you  cared  for  me,  as  you  say  you  do,"  she 
continued,  after  a  while,  "  why  did  you  do  this 
thing?" 

She  had  considered  well  before  putting  the  ques- 
tion. At  first  the  impulse  had  been  to  terminate 
the  interview  and  creep  away  to  her  own  room, 
where  she  could,  perhaps,  realize  in  time  just  what 
this  horror  was.  Then  the  same  thought  came  to 
her  that  had  held  him  silent.  She,  too,  realized 
that  it  was  the  last  time.  She  could  not  let  him  go 
quite  yet.  Her  love  and  faith  had  been  too  strong 
for  that.  There  must  be  some  explanation  of  the 
hideous  contradiction  of  his  professed  love  for  one 
woman  and  his  marriage  with  another. 

Again,  he  was  silent,  for  he  dare  not  trust  himself 
to  speak  lest,  by  so  doing,  he  should  undo  all  the  good 
— if  there  was  any  good — of  his  sacrifice. 

"  Was  it,"  she  continued,  slowly,  for,  strange  to 
relate,  her  mind  was  working  rapidly  and  with  pain- 

374 


CONSTANCE 


fill  clearness.  "  Was  it  to  further  your  business  in- 
terests ? " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  almost  eagerly,  for  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  him  that  the  worse  his  act  appeared  to 
her,  the  better  it  would  be  for  her,  in  the  end.  If  her 
respect  for  him  was  killed,  the  love  would  not  long 
outlive  it.  It  only  made  it  a  little  harder  for  him, 
and  it  might  make  all  the  difference  in  life  to  her. 
If  she  knew  the  truth,  or  even  as  much  of  it  as  he 
had  told  Taylor,  she  might  go  on  loving  to  the  end 
of  time.  It  seemed  to  him  that  a  broken  faith  was 
better  for  her  than  a  hopeless"  love.  Certainly  the 
more  contemptible  he  appeared,  the  better.  "  Yes," 
he  repeated,  determined  to  put  it  as  plainly  as  pos- 
sible. "  I  married  for  money." 

He  succeeded  better  than  he  had  thought,  for  the 
quick  look  which  passed  over  her  face  was  one  of 
scorn.  So  this  was  the  man  she  had  loved ;  the  man 
in  whom  she  had  had  put  her  faith!  She  recalled 
another,  who  had  once  professed  love  for  her  and 
who  had  subsequently  married  a  most  inferior 
woman,  with  money.  She  remembered  the  con- 
tempt she  had  felt  for  him  when  she  heard  of  it,  and 
now — this  was  a  much  worse  case.  That  man  had 
married  a  gentlewoman,  a  girl  who  was  in  every  way 
his  social  equal.  This  one  had — not  that,  surely! 

875 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

And  yet,  "  he  is  nearly  all  Spaniard.  His  father 
was  a  Spanish  officer."  The  words  came  back  to 
her  with  a  horrible  distinctness.  Yes,  it  must  be 
true,  this  man  had  not  even  drawn  the  color  line  ! 

"  Your  wife,"  she  said,  interrogatively,  "  is  a 
resident  of  the  Philippines  ?  " 

"  Yes.  She  is  a  light  mestiza.  Her  father  took 
me  into  partnership."  When  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  do  a  thing,  Daniel  Everton  did  it  thoroughly. 

She  turned  her  face  towards  the  window  once  more. 
Again  the  little  clock  began  to  tick  audibly.  Ever- 
ton picked  up  his  hat. 

"  I  will  say  good-by,"  he  said,  quietly. 

The  little  clock  had  a  monopoly  of  all  the  noise  in 
the  room  for  awhile.  It  was  a  longer  time  than  she 
had  thought,  as  she  sat  there,  making  no  reply,  and 
giving  no  sign.  Then  she  aroused  herself  and 
turned.  The  little  clock  had  ticked  away  four  min- 
utes. Everton  was  gone. 

376 


Chapter  XXIV 
ON  THE  SLOPES  OF  CANALOAN 

AR  below,  in  the  valley  by  the  sea,  there  was 
already  a  faint  tinge  of  dawn,  by  the  light  of 
which  the  hacienda  laborers,  waking,  were 
just  able  to  distinguish  a  difference  between  the 
greenish  gloom  of  the  sugar  lands  and  the  bluish 
gloom  of  the  sea;  far  above,  on  the  very  crest  of  the 
hills,  there  was  a  flush  spreading,  a  flush  which  told 
of  the  sunrise  back  behind  the  mountains  of  Cebu. 
But  between,  in  the  heavy  forests  which  stretch 
down  the  sides  of  Canaloan,  the  night  was  still  of  the 
blackest  and  the  life  of  the  jungle  was  still  asleep. 

In  this  opaque  darkness,  at  a  point  half-way  be- 
tween the  last  hacienda  mill  of  the  low  country,  and 
the  crest  of  the  hills,  a  small  detachment  of  soldiers 
were  halted,  awaiting  the  dawn.  Somewhere,  on 
their  right,  which  was  the  south,  they  could  hear  the 
faint  roaring  of  the  Bago  River  as  it  coursed  through 

a  gorge;  above  them  there  was  only  the  barking  of 

877 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

the  tree  lizards  to  make  more  intense  the  deep  silence 
of  the  tropic  night. 

By  degrees,  as  the  soft  flush  on  the  mountain-crest 
deepened  and  spread  downward,  the  waters  of  the 
Bago  came  out  of  the  darkness  in  a  grayish,  restless 
foam,  while  above,  the  stars  grew  fainter. 

Suddenly,  there  came  a  low  melodious  note  from 
the  branches  of  a  lofty  tree  which  stood  just  by  the 
river's  bank.  It  was  a  call,  half  mournful  at  first, 
and  then,  as  it  echoed  down  the  gorge,  it  rippled  off 
into  a  soft  melody,  more  tender  than  the  finest  notes 
of  a  flute.  It  was  the  jungle  reveille. 

In  the  adjoining  tree,  there  was  a  brown  mass  of 
something,  from  which  there  hung  suspended  several 
long,  dark  tails.  At  the  first  note  of  the  low,  sweet 
call,  the  mass  stirred.  A  head  was  lifted  and  there 
was  a  great  chattering  as  the  father  monkey,  being 
in  no  hurry  to  arise,  burrowed  his  way  back  into  the 
family  mass.  It  was  cold  up  there  in  the  mountains, 
and  the  family  as  a  unit  gives  warmth. 

But  the  stealthy  approach  of  another  day  was  not 
to  be  denied.  As  the  gray  river  and  sky  merged 
into  the  warmer  tints  of  sunrise,  the  call  was 
answered,  far  and  wide,  from  a  hundred  feathered 
throats.  It  was  not  all  musical  now.  The  discord- 
ant voices  had  awakened  as  well  as  the  others,  and 

378 


ON   THE   SLOPES    OF   CANALOAN 

the  shrill  scream  of  a  big,  white  cockatoo  drowned 
the  softer  notes  of  nature's  trumpeter. 

Then  the  air  changed  slowly.  On  the  eastern 
slopes  of  Negros,  the  sun  was  already  shining 
warmly  and  steadily;  the  warmth  passed  with  the 
light  across  the  mountain  tops  and  down  into  the 
gorge  beyond.  As  the  damp  chill  left  the  air  the 
brown  mass  in  the  tree  dissolved  into  four  units. 
The  father  swung  himself  from  the  tree,  by  arm  and 
tail,  and  landed  on  a  great  stone  beside  the  clear 
river.  Just  below  him  there  was  a  little  basin  of 
crystal,  in  which  the  waters  curled  slowly,  slowly 
around.  The  old  monkey  leaned  over  and  drank, 
regarding  his  reflection  curiously. 

The  noises  were  many  now.  It  was  nature's 
breakfast  hour.  The  two  little  brown  ones  were  tak- 
ing their  meal  without  stirring  from  the  warm,  snug 
attitude  in  which  they  had  passed  the  night.  The 
birds  were  flitting  about  in  search  of  food,  and  high 
up  on  the  slopes  of  Canaloan  a  dozen  wild  caribou 
came  out  into  a  clearing  and  began  to  graze. 

To  the  north,  on  the  hill  where  the  soldiers  were, 
the  dawn  came  more  slowly.  It  was  never  more 
than  a  dull  twilight  in  there,  even  on  the  brightest 
mid-days,  and  now,  long  before  the  first  dull  tinge 

stole  in,  the  men  had  warning  of  its  approach  in  the 

379 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

sounds  of  awakening  life,  which  floated  up  to  them 
from  the  gorge,  drowning  the  faint  roaring  of  the 
river. 

The  soldiers,  who  sat  shivering  in  the  trail,  were 
the  first  white  men  to  push  so  far  northward  beyond 
Pandanaong,  and  to  them  the  dawn  came  slowly. 

As  it  began  to  lighten,  the  Second  Lieutenant 
gave  a  whispered  command,  and  the  detachment 
moved  forward  in  single  file  preceded  by  a  prisoner, 
a  Bibbillane,  who  had  been  captured  down  at  the 
foot  of  the  hills,  the  night  before  and  impressed  as 
a  guide.  He  marched  with  bound  arms,  a  short 
cord  running  from  his  wrists  to  the  man  from  Ten- 
nessee, who  drove  him  much  as  he  might  a  horse. 
The  path  was  a  trail  which  no  one  but  the  prisoner 
could  have  followed.  When  they  had  been  march- 
ing a  half  hour,  the  native  stopped  abruptly. 

"  Seege !  "  growled  the  Tennesseean. 

The  Bibbillane  gave  a  guttural  exclamation  and 
jerked  his  head  significantly  towards  the  jungle  on 
the  right.  They  looked  up  and  saw  through  a  break 
in  the  trees,  a  bit  of  distant  sky,  like  the  setting  of  a 
window  frame,  right  across  the  center  of  which  arose 
a  thin  column  of  white  smoke. 

The  Second  Lieutenant  and  Cassidy  advanced  a  few 
feet  further  down  the  trail.  There  they  stood  for  a 


THE   SLOPES   OF   CAN  'A  LOAN 


moment  in  whispered  conference,  and  then  the  men 
behind  saw  them  drop  upon  their  hands  and  knees 
and  crawl  away  into  the  brush,  in  the  direction  of  the 
clearing. 

They  were  gone  a  very  long  time,  and  when  they 
returned  the  jungle  was  quite  gray,  which  meant 
that,  out  in  the  open  slopes  beyond,  the  sun  was  shin- 
ing. 

At  a  sign  from  the  Second  Lieutenant,  Sergeant 
Redder  advanced  and  made  a  third  in  the  confer- 
ence, which  lasted  several  minutes  longer.  Then 
the  three  returned  together  and  the  force  of  thirty 
was  quickly  divided.  The  young  officer  led  the  way 
to  the  right,  half  the  men,  among  whom  was  Cassidy, 
following  him  and  crawling  through  the  dense  under- 
brush. 

Redder,  with  the  other  half  of  the  detachment, 
moved  on  down  the  trail  for  fifty  yards  or  so,  until 
they  neared  the  open.  He  halted  here  and  placed 
his  little  force  just  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  in 
which  there  were  three  crude  barracks  of  nipa,  and 
an  irregular  line  of  trenches. 

"What  are  the  ordahs,  Sarjunt?  "  whispered  the 
Tennesseean,  eagerly. 

"  To  geeb  your  moud  shud,"  grunted  Redder,  ex- 

plicitly. 

881 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

When  the  snub  had  had  time  to  have  a  proper  dis- 
ciplinary effect,  the  German  condescended  to  give 
further  instructions.  Creeping  along  the  line,  he 
divided  his  force  into  three  parts,  to  each  of  which  he 
assigned  a  nipa  shack.  "  I  vill  give  de  gommand 
1  fire  '  ven  de  Loodenunt  fires  his  virst  shot ;  dake  an 
easy  aim,  aboud  at  de  floor  and  vaid  ready.  Dere 
vill  pe  no  varnin',  mindt,  joost  de  gommand  to  'fire ! ' 
De  range  is  boint  blank,  an'  effery  man  order  hid  de 
house,  vat  as  peen  assigned  to  'im.  Lie  as  flad  as 
you  gan,  for  ven  dey  shood,  dey'll  shood  mosdly  dis 
vay.  No  talgin,  mindt." 

The  men  obeyed  and  lay  waiting.  As  the  mo- 
ments dragged,  the  Tennesseean  saw  a  chicken  fly 
down  from  the  roof  of  one  of  the  nipa  houses,  and 
begin  to  feed.  He  wondered  vaguely  whether  it 
would  be  scared  by  the  firing  and  hide  in  the  thicket, 
where  he  would  be  unable  to  find  it  afterward. 

Meanwhile  it  seemed  to  the  other  party  that  they 
must  have  lost  their  way.  The  crawl  was  intermi- 
nable and  exhausting.  Their  clothing  was  wet 
through  with  the  heavy  dew  which  clung  to  the  grass 
and  leaves,  and  their  faces  were  cut  with  the 
brambles,  and  yet  the  thoughts  which  ran  through 
the  Second  Lieutenant's  mind,  as  they  struggled 
laboriously  on,  were  of  a  most  agreeable  nature. 


OAT  THE   SLOPES    OF   CANALOAN 

Here,  at  last,  was  his  opportunity,  for  which  he 
had  waited  a  very  long  year.  He  was  about  to  enter 
his  first  fight  and  in  command.  The  fates  had  been 
indeed  kind  to  him.  Major  Crompton  had  received 
an  order  two  days  before  to  repair  to  Iloilo  and  sit 
upon  a  court-martial.  The  command  of  the  Silay 
detachment  consequently  devolved  upon  the  junior, 
and  the  following  day  Benita  had  appeared  with  a 
letter  from  Mispall.  That  was  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon;  six  hours  afterward  they  had  marched 
out  of  Silay  and  had  been  marching  ever  since. 

The  long  crawl  was  over  at  last  and  they  neared 
the  clearing.  Peering  through  the  few  feet  of  brush 
which  still  intervened,  the  young  officer  made  a 
survey  of  the  field. 

They  were  now  in  the  rear  of  the  trenches,  on  the 
flank  toward  the  west,  and  the  garrison,  with  one  ex- 
ception, appeared  to  be  asleep.  The  exception  was 
a  solitary  sentry  who  had  been  stationed  at  one  end 
of  the  long  line  of  trenches.  He  sat  with  his  back 
toward  them  and  his  rifle  across  his  knees.  At  the 
moment  he  was  engaged  in  rolling  a  cigarette. 

"Fire!" 

So  perfectly  had  Sergeant  Redder  kept  his  men  in 
hand,  that  the  two  volleys  rang  out  all  but  simul- 
taneously. Their  fire  crossed  just  in  front  of  the 

383 


DANIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

houses  and  riddled  all  three  pitilessly.  The  sentry 
stopped  rolling  his  cigarette  and  lay  upon  his  back, 
staring  upward  with  a  half  smile,  his  eyes  fixed 
meaninglessly  upon  the  sun,  which  rose  just  then 
above  the  bamboo  brake  across  the  clearing. 

"Forward!" 

The  fifteen  men  tumbled,  pell  mell,  out  of  the 
jungle  brush  and  into  the  first  trench.  There  was 
no  opposition  there.  The  greater  part  of  the 
enemy's  force  of  seventy  odd  had  been  sleeping 
under,  and  behind,  the  three  little  houses.  At  the 
first  volley,  at  least  a  third  fled  wildly  into  the  jungle 
and  down  the  slope  beyond.  The  others  fell  into  the 
center  trench  and  began  an  erratic  fire  at  will,  in  the 
direction  of  Redder's  force.  They  were  forty  odd 
in  number,  and  strangely  enough  had,  at  the  first 
moment,  no  suspicion  that  the  real  attack  was  on 
their  flank. 

Creeping  to  the  juncture  of  the  two  trenches,  the 
Second  Lieutenant  grouped  his  men  carefully  and 
poured  a  murderous  magazine  fire  into  their  dis- 
ordered mass. 

"  L  "  Company's  bugler  now  sounded  "  Commence 
firing,"  and  as  the  clear  notes  rose  above  the  sharp 
rattling  of  the  rifles,  Redder's  men  began  a  deliber- 
ate and  careful  fire  at  will,  their  bullets  just  grazing 

384 


ON  THE   SLOPES    OF   CANALOAN 

the  center  trench.     The  combined  fire  was  irresist- 
ible and  the  enfilade  was  complete. 

There  was  one  among  the  enemy  who  seemed  to  be 
in  command  and  who  could  be  heard  shouting  orders 
in  Spanish  and  Visayan.  Under  this  leader,  what 
remained  of  the  force  retreated  to  the  third  and  last 
trench.  This  was  their  final  stand.  Beyond  there 
was  the  jungle,  through  which  pursuit  would  be  im- 
possible. The  trench  had  been  built  with  more  skill 
than  the  others  and  ran  almost  at  right  angles  with 
the  one  which  had  been  enfiladed  the  moment  before, 
and  into  which  the  Second  Lieutenant  now  poured 
his  little  force.  It  was  the  happiest  moment  of  the 
young  man's  life. 

"Cease  firing!" 

The  call  rang  out  and  conveyed  its  message  to 
Redder,  as  the  fifteen  men  under  the  Second  Lieuten- 
ant were  crouched  in  the  enemy's  trench. 

The  plan  of  action  had  carried  admirably.  Not  a 
man  had  suffered  from  the  wild  firing  of  the  insur- 
gents, and  Redder  was  even  now  moving  his  force 
rapidly  toward  a  point  where  they  could  sweep  the 
short  open  space  between  the  last  trench  and  the 
safety  of  the  dense  brush  beyond. 

The  Second  Lieutenant  paused  for  breath,  as  there 
was  a  moment's  lull  in  the  action. 
25  385 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

One  final  charge  from  the  flank,  and  then  the  third 
trench  would  be  carried  and  the  day  won.  So  far 
it  had  been  absurdly  easy. 

The  Second  Lieutenant  had  planned  that  little  en- 
gagement with  a  skill  which  promised  well  for  his 
future  as  an  officer.  Had  he  been  as  old  as  Oas- 
sidy,  or  had  he  followed  his  usual  custom  of  con- 
ferring with  that  soldier  as  to  the  next  move,  he 
might  have  lived  to  do  great  things  for  his  country 
some  day.  But  there  is  a  reckless  enthusiasm  which 
comes  to  young  men  at  the  moment  of  success  in 
battle  and  leads  them  to  mar  victory  by  over  con- 
fidence and  carelessness.  It  came  to  the  Second 
Lieutenant  then. 

It  was  ridiculous  to  prolong  this  action.  "  Strike 
while  the  iron  was  hot."  That  was  a  good  motto. 
He  reloaded  his  revolver. 

"  Fix  bayonets !  " 

The  fifteen  bayonets  sprang  into  their  places  with 
a  sound  they  had  never  had  on  the  parade  ground  in 
front  of  the  Silay  church.  Things  do  sound  differ- 
ently when  they  are  done  in  earnest.  The  young 
man's  eyes  were  blazing  with  a  strange  light.  "  For- 
ward," he  shouted,  and  sprang  upon  the  embank- 
ment. 

Just  one  hundred  per  cent,  of  the  men  behind  him 
386 


ON   THE   SLOPES    OF   CANALQAN 

were  there  as  soon  as  he  was,  and  a  few  seconds 
later  they  were  pouring  their  fire  direct  into  the  last 
trench.  But  in  those  few  seconds  a  fairly  directed 
volley  was  poured  into  their  midst  by  the  enemy's 
force,  which  was  now  reduced  to  some  twelve  men. 
The  Second  Lieutenant  sank  upon  one  knee. 

"  Give  'em  hell,  boys !  Take  command,  Sergeant 
Cassidy,  enfilade !  " 

The  last  words  died  faintly  away  in  the  sharp 
magazine  fire  of  the  fifteen  rifles.  Eedder's  guns 
spoke  next,  as  the  fragment  of  the  enemy,  dropping 
all  efforts  at  anything  but  self  preservation,  darted 
across  the  open  space.  Two  of  them  fell  and  the 
others  gained  the  shelter  of  the  wood. 

"  Sound  th'  assimbly !  "  shouted  Cassidy.  "  Cease 
firing!" 

There  was  no  assembly  sounded.  "  L  "  Company's 
bugler  was  dead. 

Five  minutes  had  elapsed.  Cassidy  had  thrown 
out  a  hurried  cordon  of  sentinels  around  the  little 
enclosure  to  guard  against  a  possible  counter  attack, 
but  there  was  no  indication  that  one  would  be  made. 

Those  of  the  enemy  who  had  not  escaped  lay  in 
the  trenches  huddled  together  in  pools  of  blood. 

The  Americans  who  had  not  been  posted  as  sen- 
887 


D4NIEL   EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

tinels  were  grouped  in  the  shade  of  a  banana  tree. 
In  the  center  of  the  group  lay  the  Second  Lieuten- 
ant. He  was  staring  at  the  tree  tops  with  an  ex- 
pression of  almost  boyish  bewilderment  on  his  face. 

"  Am  I  very  badly  hit,  Sergeant  ? "  he  asked, 
faintly.  It  had  all  happened  so  suddenly,  at  the  last. 

Cassidy  did  not  answer,  for  the  words  were  chok- 
ing him.  The  commanding  officer  had  changed  his 
status  in  the  last  few  minutes.  He  was  a  boy  now, 
to  the  hard-featured  men  who  stood  about  him  with 
moist  eyes.  He  could  have  been  Cassidy's  son. 

"It's  pretty  bad,  Lootenant,"  said  the  Tennes- 
seean,  when  the  question  had  remained  so  long  un- 
answered that  the  boy  looked  at  them  with  a  faint, 
sick  fear.  He  did  not  hear  the  reply  clearly. 
Everything  seemed  away  off,  and  the  roaring  of  the 
river,  which  was  not  audible  to  the  other  men,  be- 
gan in  his  ears  and  was  just  as  it  had  been  during 
the  long  hours  of  the  night,  when  they  had  crouched 
waiting. 

The  roaring  deepened  and  grew  more  bold,  for  the 
current  of  the  river  was  running  fast.  He  smiled 
slightly,  and  turned  his  head  to  one  side  in  an  atti- 
tude of  listening.  After  a  long  silence,  during 
which  his  face  had  grown  white,  he  spoke  again: 

"  Sergeant,"  he  said.  "  Sergeant !  " 

388 


ON   THE  SLOPES    OF   CANALOAN 

As  Cassidy  answered,  the  tears  which  had  been 
restrained  so  long,  fell  openly. 

"  I  think  that's  the  Bago,  Sergeant,"  the  boy  mut- 
tered. 

The  men,  of  one  accord,  took  off  their  hats  and 
stood  with  bowed  heads.  "  Ah,  Gawd,  if  we'd  only 
a  surgeon,"  said  Cassidy,  passionately.  "  It 
might " 

"  Couldn't  nohow,  Sarjunt,"  said  the  Tennesseean. 
"  Look !  "  He  pointed  with  his  hand,  and  Cassidy, 
following  the  gesture,  saw. 

There  was  no  need  to  speak  in  whispers  now.  The 
roaring  of  the  river  drowned  all  other  sounds.  It 
was  a  broader  and  a  deeper  river  than  the  Bago,  and 
he  was  drawing  very  near  to  its  banks. 

Then  something  happened  which  was  spoken  of 
in  whispers  among  the  men  of  "  L  "  Company  for 
long  afterward.  The  young  soldier's  eyes  had  been 
dull  and  almost  glazed.  They  now  became  suddenly 
bright,  with  a  brightness  which  some  of  the  men  sub- 
sequently declared  was  not  of  this  world.  He  raised 
his  right  hand  sharply  to  where  the  brown  hair  was 
showing  under  the  rim  of  his  soiled,  campaign  hat. 

"  Sir !  "  he  said  in  a  voice  as  clear  as  it  had  been 
an  hour  before ;  "  Sir !  I  have  the  honor  to  re- 
port  " 

389 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

The  hand  relaxed  first,  then  the  whole  body,  and 
there  was  a  quick  gasp,  as  he  rolled  over  into  Cas- 
sidy's arms.  They  put  the  hat  over  his  face  to  shield 
it  from  the  strong  rays  of  the  sun  and  stood  about  for 
a  few  moments  in  silence.  The  Second  Lieutenant 
of  "  L  "  Company  had  reported  for  duty  with  his  last 
command. 

The  spectacle  which  greeted  Cassidy's  eyes  when 
he  entered  the  larger  of  the  three  shacks  a  few 
minutes  later,  was  one  which  it  is  not  best  to  dwell 
upon  in  any  detail.  It  had  been  crowded  with  sleep- 
ing men  an  hour  before,  not  one  of  whom  had 
escaped. 

Cassidy,  hardened  as  he  was,  sickened  at  the  sight 
and  hurriedly  left  the  hut. 

"  Go  into  thim  shacks,  some  av  you  min,"  he  said, 
"  and  bring  out  th'  dead.  Move  lively  now.  Oi 
want  to  sthart  back  directly." 

Several  of  the  soldiers  went  to  do  his  bidding. 
The  man  from  Tennessee  entered  the  smallest  one 
and  came  out  again  a  moment  later,  bearing  some- 
thing in  his  arms.  He  brought  it  and  laid  it  in 
silence  at  Cassidy's  feet. 

Mercedes  had  never  looked  more  fair  in  her  life 
than  she  did  as  she  lay  there,  her  luxuriant  dark 

390 


ON   THE   SLOPES    OF   CAXALOAN 

hair  falling  in  profusion  over  her  shoulders.  There 
was  a  small,  round  hole  just  over  the  right  eye,  from 
which  the  blood  had  trickled  down  the  soft  cheek  and 
begun  to  congeal.  Had  it  not  been  for  that,  she 
might  have  seemed  quietly  sleeping. 

The  two  men  regarded  each  other  questioningly. 
Cassidy  was  sorely  troubled. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ? "  he  asked  at  length. 
"  Benita  said  she  wuz  at  th'  hacienda  whin  we  left, 
an'  I  told  her  not  to  let  her  lave." 

The  Tennesseean  knit  his  brows.  "  Jose  musta 
brung  her  up  heah  last  night,  by  the  short  trail.  Ah 
found  this  in  yander,  so  Ah  reckon  they  wuz  to- 
gether, Sarjunt." 

The  Irishman  took  Mispall's  big  straw  hat  and 
threw  it  into  the  smouldering  embers  of  the  camp 
fire.  Then  he  glanced  once  more  at  the  sweet, 
gentle  face  of  Mercedes,  and  said  softly,  for  in  the 
roughest  men  there  is  found,  sometimes,  the  greatest 
delicacy,  "  Niver  moind  that,  now,  poor  gurl;  an' 
don't  tell  th'  others." 

The  Tennesseean  nodded  and  the  other  men  came 
crowding  around,  staring  in  blank  amazement  at  the 
dead  girl.  They  asked  a  dozen  questions,  to  no  one 
of  which  Cassidy  condescended  to  reply.  At  length, 

when  their  surprise  had  somewhat  abated,  a  sudden 

391 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

painful  silence  fell  upon  them;  the  mind  of  each  was 
tilled  with  the  same  unpleasant  query.  Finally  Gas- 
sidy  voiced  it.  "  Thank  Gawd,"  he  said,  slowly, 
"  no  wan  knows  who  done  it." 

"  Amen,  Sarjunt,"  said  the  Tennesseean,  guiltily. 
He  knew  where  he  had  fired,  at  the  corner  of  the 
building,  and  he  also  knew  where  he  had  found  the 
body  of  Mercedes. 

There  is  a  spot  in  the  little  clearing,  just  where  the 
jungle  slopes  off,  toward  the  westward,  and  over 
which  Canaloan  mounts  eternally,  a  silent,  brooding 
guard.  As  the  sun  rises  over  the  eastern  slopes  of 
Murcia  Pass,  it  strikes  here  first. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  they  laid  Mercedes  and 
the  Second  Lieutenant  and  "  L  "  Company's  bugler, 
side  by  side.  Then,  when  all  was  ready,  the  men 
fell  in,  in  double  ranks,  facing  toward  the  gorge. 

392 


Chapter  XXV 
MARSHALL  EVERTON 

DISTANCE  FAIKCHILD  was  alone  in  the 
library  of  a  very  old  house,  in  a  neighbor- 
hood from,  whence  most  of  its  dignified  con- 
temporaries had  departed.  It  was  after  dinner,  and, 
as  she  approached  the  window  fronting  upon  the  de- 
serted street,  her  loneliness  partook  of  a  character 
which  it  had  worn  frequently  of  late.  It  was  a  pas- 
sive acceptance  of  loneliness  and  an  acquiescence  in 
the  decree  of  Fate,  which  pointed  out  a  long  stretch 
of  years,  made  up  of  lonely  evenings,  and  said, 
"  This  is  your  future !  " 

There  was  a  cushioned  divan  in  the  window,  and, 
seating  herself  upon  it,  she  leaned  toward  the  cold 
glass  and  gazed  thoughtfully  at  the  scene  without. 
It  was  in  keeping  with  her  position  and  her  humor. 
There  was  no  one  in  sight  and  the  snow  was  falling 
softly  and  steadily,  deepening  upon  the  pavements 
with  a  white  carpet  and  rapidly  obliterating  the  tracks 

393 


DANIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

of  the  solitary  vehicle  which  had  passed  since  four 
o'clock  that  afternoon. 

Those  who  live  too  much  alone  grow  fanciful. 
She  likened  the  cold,  empty  silence  of  the  scene  to 
her  own  life,  and  shivered  slightly.  Then,  leaving 
the  window,  she  crossed  to  a  great  leather  armchair 
in  front  of  the  fire,  sank  into  it,  and  fell  to  regarding 
the  cheerful  glowing  of  the  coals. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  sudden  loss  of  a  great 
hope  is  a  worse  blow  than  the  loss  of  a  possessed 
reality.  Under  the  most  favorable  of  conditions, 
realities  are  apt  to  be  tempered  with  disillusion,  and 
their  loss  is  less  severe  than  the  loss  of  the  hope 
which  preceded  them,  to  the  extent  of  that  disillu- 
sion. In  Constance  Fairchild's  case,  the  hope  had 
existed  so  long,  and  with  such  good  reason,  that  it 
had  given  her  almost  as  clear  a  title  to  the  happiness 
it  promised,  as  actual  possession. 

More  than  a  year  had  passed  since  that  last  morn- 
ing in  Manila,  when  her  hope  had  died,  and  try  as  she 
might,  she  had  not  been  able  to  bury  it.  All  of  the 
more  violent  emotions  carry  with  them  their  own 
reaction.  She  had  been,  at  the  first,  so  utterly  sick- 
ened and  disgusted  with  the  revelation  which  Daniel 
Everton  had  made  to  her,  that  it  had  seemed  as 
tho  she  must  forget  him  speedily.  In  those  first 

394 


MARSHALL    EVERTQN 


days,  she  had  prayed  for  strength  to  keep  her  from 
despising  him  too  much.  Latterly,  the  prayers  had 
been,  that  she  might  forget  him  and  throw  off  the  in- 
fluence he  was  exercising  over  her  life  and  thoughts. 
These  prayers  had  remained  unanswered. 

Whenever  she  reviewed  in  her  mind  that  last 
interview,  she  experienced  a  renewal  of  the  scorn 
and  contempt  which  she  had  then  felt  for  him;  and 
yet,  at  odd  moments,  the  other  memories  came  back 
and  intruded  upon  her,  whose  mind  should  have  been 
occupied  solely  with  the  recollection  of  his  one  des- 
picable act.  When  she  thought  of  him  deliberately, 
which  was  but  seldom,  she  dwelt  upon  his  marriage ; 
when  she  thought  of  him  involuntarily,  which  was 
often,  it  was  of  his  courage  on  the  field  and  of  the 
many  other  things  about  him  which  she  had  learned 
to  love. 

As  the  months  had  passed,  she  had  grown  to  think 
of  him  as  two  persons — separate  and  distinct.  The 
one,  the  man  she  had  loved  and  believed  in,  the 
soldier,  the  gentleman;  the  other,  the  man  as  he 
had  shown  himself  on  that  last  horrible  morning. 
Sometimes  she  would  awake  at  night  and  imagine 
that  that  morning  had  been  a  dream.  She  recalled 
how  unusually  hot  and  stifling  it  had  been  and  how 

unreal  the  sunlight.     Surely,  she  would  think,  as 

895 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

she  lay  in  the  quiet  and  darkness  of  her  western 
home,  that  heat  and  that  intense,  white  sunlight 
could  never  have  had  a  real  existence.  It  was  all  a 
horrible  nightmare. 

Then  those  nights  would  have  other  thoughts,  such 
that,  when  she  reverted  to  them  the  next  day,  they 
would  bring  a  flush  of  self-disdain  to  her  face.  It 
seemed  that  she  was  deteriorating;  that  she  had 
grown,  morally,  less  erect;  because,  when  his  pres- 
ence was  unusually  strong  upon  her,  she  would  have 
to  check  herself  in  the  act  of  wishing  that,  since  he 
had  to  marry  for  money,  Fate  had  given  him  to  her. 
She  could  have  elevated  him,  and  perhaps  the  good 
that  was  in  him  would  have  overcome  the  one  sordid 
characteristic.  She  was  not  perfect,  herself,  and 
not  strong  always;  she  began  to  realize  that  now, 
Perhaps  he  had  been  sorely  tried  by  poverty  and 
need.  So,  in  the  long  watches  of  the  night,  she 
would  find  excuses  for  him,  and  then,  in  the  bright, 
clear  light  of  the  next  day,  she  would  despise  her- 
self for  having  found  them. 

In  certain  respects,  animals  are  more  fortunate 
than  human  beings.  They  have  an  instinct  and  they 
follow  it.  Men  have  an  instinct;  but  they  also  have 
a  judgment,  and  the  two  are  not  always  on  friendly 
terms.  They  had  been  at  odds  in  Constance  Fair- 


MARSHALL   EPERTON 


child's  breast  for  months.  Instinct  told  her  to  love 
Everton;  judgment,  to  despise  him.  She  obeyed 
both,  sometimes  alternately  and  sometimes  together, 
and  the  result  was  a  continuous  quarrel  within  the 
domestic  circle  of  the  soul,  which  was  infinitely 
harder  to  endure  than  the  most  rasping  ones  within 
that  of  the  family. 

As  she  sat  ruminating  upon  the  future,  Constance 
wondered  if  she  had  not  made  a  mistake  in  planning 
her  life  along  such  independent  lines.  Perhaps  it 
would  have  been  better  if  she  had  followed  the  more 
usual  convention,  commanded  by  the  world  for  spin- 
sters in  her  position,  and  taken  some  elderly  duenna 
to  live  with  her.  She  had  not  done  so,  being  no 
believer  in  artificial  relationships,  and  her  brother 
was  still  in  the  Philippines. 

She  aroused  herself  with  a  slight  effort  and  picked 
up  a  book  from  the  table  at  her  side,  prepared  to  pass 
this  evening  as  she  had  passed  so  many  of  late.  As 
she  opened  its  pages,  however,  there  was  a  loud  ring 
at  the  door  and  she  glanced  up  in  surprise.  It  was 
ten  o'clock  and  a  call  at  that  hour,  from  any  source, 
was  most  unusual.  "  Not  at  home,  Stevens,"  she 
said,  and  returned  to  her  book. 

The  front  door  opened  and  there  was  a  sweep  of 
cold,  damp  air.  Then  followed  a  moment's  whis- 

897 


DANIEL    EfERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

pered  conference,  after  which  Stevens  appeared  once 
more  at  the  door  of  the  library.  "  It's  Mr.  Everton's 
man,  miss,  and  he  says  it's  something  most  particular. 
He  has  a  message  for  you." 

"  Show  him  in." 

"  Good  evening,  Miss  Fairchild,"  said  John, 
brokenly.  "  Thank  you  fer  seein'  me."  She 
glanced  at  him  quickly.  The  man  was  laboring 
under  some  strong,  emotional  excitement.  His  eyes 
were  red,  and  she  saw  that  he  had  been  crying. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  she  asked,  encouragingly. 

"  Mr.  Everton,  miss,  is  a-sinkin'  fast — has  been 
for  two  days  now,  and  it  looks  like  he  couldn't  hold 
out  over  night.  This  afternoon  he  was  took  with  a 
fit  of  wanderin'  like,  in  his  head.  Didn't  know  no- 
body, an'  kept  a-askin'  for  you  an'  Mr.  Daniel." 

Constance  did  not  speak  immediately,  and  looking 
at  her,  the  servant  fancied  that  her  face  was  hard 
and  unsympathetic.  He  was  surprised,  for  he  had 
expected  his  appeal  to  meet  with  an  immediate 
response.  After  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  added, 
entreatingly,  "  I  think  that  if  you  was  to  hear  him, 
miss,  you'd  go.  He  can't  last  much  longer,  an'  it's 
downright  pitiful,  the  way  he's  been  a-askin'  for 
you." 

The  hardness  in  Constance's  eyes  had  not  been  for 
398 


MARSHALL    EVERTON 


Marshall  Everton.  She  hastened  to  speak,  and  in 
her  voice  the  old  servant  noted  an  accent  of  real  dis- 
tress. "  Of  course  I'll  go/'  she  said,  "  at  once.  But 
where  is  Mr.  Daniel  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  miss.  I  wrote  him  long  ago  that 
Mr.  Everton  was  a-failin',  and  took  the  liberty  of  ex- 
pressing my  opinion  as  how  he  wouldn't  last  the  year 
out.  I've  never  had  no  answer  an'  it's  time  one 
came  now — that  is,  if  he'd  written  prompt  like,  when 
he  got  my  letter." 

Constance  gave  a  slight  gesture  of  impatience. 
She  had  heard  enough  of  Daniel  Everton.  Her 
heart  went  out  in  sympathy  to  the  old  father,  who 
was  dying  alone.  She  touched  a  bell  on  the  little 
table,  and  Stevens,  who  had  been  waiting  outside  the 
door,  answered  the  summons.  "  Call  a  cab,"  she 
said,  briefly.  "  I'll  go  back  with  you,"  she  added,  to 
John. 

Marshall  Everton's  shrunken  form  had  wasted 
away,  until  what  lay  beneath  the  blankets  was  but 
the  frame  of  a  man.  His  face  had  not  changed 
greatly,  and  his  eyes  shone  with  an  unusual  and  quite 
unnatural  brightness.  As  Constance  sat  beside  him, 
waiting  for  consciousness  to  return,  his  mind  wan- 
dered feebly,  and  he  kept  repeating  two  names.  One 

399 


D4NIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

was  "  Martha/'  which  had  not  been  on  his  lips  of 
late  years,  and  the  other  was  "  Daniel." 

There  had  been  others  on  those  blue-gray  lips  that 
evening.  Some  of  them  names  which  John,  who  sat 
crying  softly  in  the  back  of  the  room,  had  never 
heard,  and  John  had  been  in  the  Everton  family  for 
twenty  years.  Of  all  the  little  company  upon  whom 
the  old  man  called,  his  son  and  Constance  were  the 
only  ones  who  could  have  answered.  Marshall 
Everton  had  reached  that  age  when  death  signifies 
not  a  going  away  to  leave,  but  a  coming  home  to  join. 

The  trained  nurse  moved  softly  about  the  bed, 
passing  her  hand  over  the  old  man's  brow.  The 
front  door  closed  and  a  footstep  was  heard  on  the 
stairs;  the  step  of  a  heavy  man  who  had  learned  to 
walk  softly.  A  moment  later  a  physician,  whom 
Constance  had  never  seen,  came  and  stood  by  the 
bed.  He  looked  gravely  at  Mr.  Everton  and  nodded. 

"  No  nourishment  ?  "  to  the  nurse. 

"  None — since  noon,  sir." 

"  Ah."  He  turned  and  spoke  to  Constance. 
"  Has  nothing  been  heard  from  the  son  ?  "  he  asked, 
accepting  her  presence  without  comment. 

"  Daniel !     Daniel !  "  said  Mr.  Everton,  faintly. 

She  shook  her    head,  striving    to  keep  back  the 

tears.     She  felt  that  if  the  son  had  only  been  there 

400 


MARSHALL    EPERTON 


then,  she  could  have  forgiven  him  all  the  rest.  She 
was  of  a  nature  to  forgive  all,  save  this  desertion  of 
the  old  and  dying. 

The  physician  retired  to  the  next  room,  where 
Constance  could  hear  him  conversing  in  a  low,  cheer- 
ful tone  with  the  nurse.  From  the  fact  that  he  re- 
mained, she  judged  that  the  end  must  be  near. 

When  Mr.  Everton  had  been  silent  for  several 
minutes,  breathing  heavily,  he  rallied  somewhat  and 
spoke  again,  this  time  more  coherently.  "  Daniel," 
he  said,  "  forgive  me."  He  began  to  drum  feebly 
with  his  hands  upon  the  coverlet,  just  as  he  had  been 
used  to  do  in  health.  Constance  recognized  the 
little  gesture  and  thought  of  the  day,  so  very  long 
ago,  when  she  and  Mrs.  Cartwright  had  called  upon 
him,  and  he  had  drummed  upon  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"  Daniel,"  he  continued,  after  a  pause.  "  I  wish 
you  to  explain  to  Miss  Fairchild.  She  would  not 
prosecute  an  old  man,  Daniel,  and  I  am  old.  It  was 
an  error  in  judgment,  an  error  in  judgment  and 
I " 

The  sentence  ended  in  a  few  muttered  words,  the 
meaning  of  which  she  could  not  gather.  She  was 
leaning  forward  now,  listening  intently.  Suddenly 
he  caught  his  breath  with  a  sound  which  brought 

John  across  the  room.     The  sound  was  not  repeated 
26  401 


DANIEL   EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

and  the  regular  breathing  was  resumed.  Mr.  Ever- 
ton  turned  his  head  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  Con- 
stance. He  tried  to  rise  upon  his  pillow. 

"Miss  Fairchild!" 

She  knelt  quickly  by  his  side  and  slipped  her  arm 
about  his  neck.  "  I  am  here,  Mr.  Everton,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  regarding  her  intently. 
"  You  have  been  here  now  for  several  weeks.  I 
thank  you  for  coming.  Had  I  known  where  you 
were  stopping,  I  should  have  called.  I  can  scarcely 
see  you.  Will  you  come  a  little  closer,  please?  I 
have  been  indisposed  and  cannot  move  readily." 

Her  face  was  within  a  few  inches  of  his  own.  She 
drew  yet  nearer  and  he  sank  his  voice  to  a  whisper. 
"  There  is  something  I  wish  to  tell  you." 

"Yes?     What  is  it?" 

The  hurried  eager  tone  startled  him,  apparently, 
for  he  drew  back  quickly.  "  I  owe  you  nothing — 
nothing— NOTHING !"  The  voice  was  raised 
now,  almost  to  a  scream,  which  brought  in  the  nurse 
and  doctor  from  the  other  room.  By  an  effort,  Mar- 
shall Everton  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow. 
"  Understand,"  he  said,  clearly,  "  I  owe  you  nothing. 
It  was  all  made  good  by  the  sacrifice  of  my  son.  The 
accounts  balance.  Do  you  hear  ?  They  balance !  " 

He  sank  back  exhausted,  and  there  was  a  heavy 
402 


MARSHALL    EPERTON 


silence  in  the  room.  After  waiting  a  moment,  the 
nurse  and  doctor  once  more  withdrew. 

It  was  now  after  one  o'clock,  and  what  little  re- 
mained of  Marshall  Everton's  vitality  was  ebbing 
rapidly.  The  moments  dragged  slowly  and  the  thin 
white  hands  began  to  stiffen  and  grow  cold.  At  two 
o'clock  there  was  a  last  returning  flicker  of  soul 
within  the  emaciated  frame  and  he  spoke  again;  this 
time  so  faintly  that  Constance  alone,  heard,  and  as 
she  did  so  it  all  grew  clear  to  her. 

"  Daniel  made  good  the  deficit,"  he  murmured, 
placidly.  "  Miss  Fairchild  has  nothing  to  forgive." 
A  look  of  contentment  came  to  his  face  as  he  spoke, 
to  be  replaced,  directly,  by  one  of  appealing  misery. 
"  Daniel  is  the  one  to  forgive.  Oh  my  boy !  my 
boy!" 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Then  he  said  again, 
piteously,  "  Forgive  me,  Daniel.  Forgive " 

Constance  leaned  over  and  placed  her  lips  close  to 
his  ear.  "  He  forgives  you,"  she  said,  earnestly. 
"  He  forgives  you." 

The  troubled  look  passed  instantly  from  his  face, 
and  he  spoke  again  quite  clearly.  "  That  is  all  I 
require,"  he  replied,  closing  his  eyes.  On  his  face 
was  the  look  of  a  man  who,  as  far  as  this  world  is 

concerned,  has  made  and  submitted  his  account. 

403 


DANIEL    EVERTON,    VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 

The  physician  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  half 
past  two.,  and  Mr.  Everton  had  been  dead  five  min- 
utes. Under  the  circumstances,  and  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  there  were  no  relatives  of  the  deceased 
present,  that  was  a  long  time  to  devote  to  respectful 
silence  while  the  soul  of  the  old  man  sped  on  its 
journey.  Constance  arose  from  the  cramped  posi- 
tion in  which  she  had  passed  nearly  an  hour,  and 
descended  to  the  little  study  where  the  man  upstairs 
had  been  wont  to  pass  his  evenings.  There  was  a 
fire  in  the  grate  and  in  front  of  it  Mr.  Everton's  easy- 
chair.  Sinking  into  this,  she  sat,  going  over  again 
and  again  the  words  which  had  been  spoken  but  a 
few  minutes  before.  "  Daniel  made  good  the  defi- 
cit. It  is  he  who  should  forgive." 

It  did  not  take  long  for  her  to  understand,  and,  in 
the  degree  in  which  she  had  despised  Daniel  Ever- 
ton before,  she  now  regretted  the  injustice  she  had 
done  him.  It  was  very  good  to  know  that,  after 
all,  she  had  not  been  mistaken  in  him.  She  could 
go  on  loving  him  now,  and  it  would  be  a  great 
happiness.  She  sighed  slightly,  and  then,  realizing 
that  it  was  time  for  her  to  go,  arose  and  turned 
toward  the  door. 

Daniel  Everton  was  standing  on  its  threshold,  re- 
garding her  in  amazement. 

404 


Chapter  XXVI 

CONCLUSION 

HAT  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked,  clos- 
ing the  door  and  coming  forward.  He 
wore  the  traveling  suit  in  which  he  had 
crossed  the  continent  and  his  overcoat.  She  noticed 
that  he  did  not  offer  her  his  hand. 

"  I  came  because  your  father  sent  for  me." 
"  My  father !  Is  he  awake  ?  I'll  go  to  him  at  once." 
As  he  was  leaving  the  room,  she  said  something, 
but  what  it  was  she  was  never,  thereafter,  able  to 
recall.     It  caused  him  to  pause  and  turn  toward  her, 
courteously. 

"  Haven't  you  been  upstairs  ? "  she  asked. 
"  No.     I  have  only  just  arrived.     How  is  he  ?  " 
"  I  don't  think  you  had  better  go  up  just  now,"  she 
said,  searching  for  words  in  which  to  tell  him.     The 
people  in  the  room  above  were  walking  heavily  about 
and  slamming  doors.     He  heard  a  wagon  stop  in 
front  of  the  house,  and,  crossing  to  the  window, 
raised  the  shade.     Then  he  knew. 

405 


D4NIEL    EPERTON,    VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 

"  When  did  it  happen  ?  "  he  asked,  quietly. 

"  At  half  past  two.  He  spoke  of  you  at  the  last." 
Everton  made  no  reply,  and  after  a  moment  she 
added,  "  I  must  go  now." 

"  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come.  Is  your  car- 
riage here  ? " 

She  saw  that  he  had  no  intention  of  admitting  her 
to  his  sorrow.  "  It  is  waiting,"  she  said,  crossing  to 
the  door.  He  stepped  ahead  and  opened  it  for  her. 
In  a  moment  she  would  be  gone  and  she  might  never 
tell  him  that  she  understood,  and  ask  him  to  pardon 
the  injustice  she  had  done  him.  "  I  don't  expect  to 
see  you  again,  and  before  I  go,  I  want  you  to  know 
that — that — I  know." 

He  started  and  turned  toward  her,  his  hand  on  the 
knob  of  the  door.  "  That  you  know  ? "  he  asked, 
searchingly. 

"  Yes.  He  told  me  just  before  he  died,  and  I 
want  you  to  forgive  me  for  the  injustice  I  did  you. 
It  was  all  such  a  horrible  mistake  and — so  un- 
necessary." 

He  closed  the  door  quickly  and  stood  facing  her,  a 
sudden  light  springing  into  his  eyes ;  a  light  of  hope 
which  changed  the  whole  character  of  his  face. 
"  And  you  don't  blame  me  ?  " 

"  No.     It  was  a  mistake,  but  you — I  don't  blame 
406 


CONCLUSION 


you."  She  returned  his  look  and  then  her  eyes  fell. 
She  regretted  what  she  saw  in  his,  regretted  it  be- 
cause of  what  stood  between  them.  She  feared  lest 
he  should  forget  that  barrier  and  say  something  which 
she  would,  in  after  years,  be  sorry  to  have  heard. 
In  love,  entire  confidence  does  not  come  at  the  very 
first.  "  Your  wife  ? "  she  said.  "  Is  she  with 
you?" 

He  came  a  step  nearer.  "  My  wife,"  he  replied, 
"  has  been  dead  for  more  than  a  year." 

When  a  great  sorrow  and  a  great  joy  come  simul- 
taneously into  a  life,  the  joy  submerges  and  drowns 
the  sorrow.  In  the  moments  which  followed,  Mar- 
shall Everton's  death  was  forgotten. 

407 


1\JA/ 


A     000128033     8 


